


Threads

by Centenniel



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Science Fiction, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1994043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centenniel/pseuds/Centenniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look, it doesn't matter if you forget Kyungsoo's favorite color or fail to recognize some high school classmate," says Tao. "Your true identity is far too illogical for most people in this world to comprehend. Even Chanyeol will look past the inconsistencies in order to maintain the illusion that you are Kyungsoo."</p><p>D.O looks away, not wanting to defy Tao but he finds it unwise to underestimate the inhabitants of this world. "What about Sehun? He's just crazy enough to believe something like this. And the guy he's dating is starting to get suspicious too."</p><p>Tao brushes off his concern. "You let me worry about the blogger and his most recent conquest."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Xiumin

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this convoluted plotline.
> 
> Hi everybody. Thanks for stopping by.
> 
> This story is also posted on AFF by the same title and author name. It's a story that's been rattling around in my head for a while and I've finally decided to write it. 
> 
> Genre: Thriller, Science Fiction, A little Romance, A little Friendship, some Drama, Not too much Angst at all.
> 
> M/M pairings: I wouldn't say the romantic pairings are the main focus of this story at all. But the more major pairings are Kaisoo, KaiLay/KaiXing, SeChen/ChenHun. Less major pairings or pairings mentioned in passing are SeHo/SuHun, SuChen, and um whoever else I feel makes sense in the story.
> 
> F/M pairings: Again, not major to the plot at all. Exo is mainly paired up with members of f(x) and SNSD. Probably other female idols as well. 
> 
> Triggers: I don't think there are any heavy or graphic triggers in this story but I could change my mind. I will try to post them at the beginning of the chapter but if I miss anything, please let me know and I will edit them in my notes. And I might as well mention it now but there is some swearing in every chapter because I love swearing.
> 
> One more time, thanks for stopping by. Kudos and comments always appreciated.

_‘This is bullshit’_ Minseok thinks. _‘I don’t even like mountain hiking. I should be at home, enjoying a beer and playing Diablo…ah crap, Luhan is probably wondering why I haven’t signed on yet. I’m never listening to Tao again.’_

The flashlight in Minseok’s hand flickers twice before completely fading out, leaving him with only the sparse bit of moonlight filtering through the thick summer leaves. “Tao,” he calls. His voice sounds tiny, even to his own ears. “Tao! Where are you?”

Thick, humid silence pulses in response.

Minseok sighs and swats away a mosquito buzzing around his face, wondering how he ever let Tao talk him into a late night excursion. He considers abandoning his friend, who he hadn’t seen in ten minutes because he deemed Minseok too slow and marched on without him, when a pinprick of artificial light appears ahead.

“Hyung, hurry up!” Tao twists his own flashlight and holds the bulb under his chin, illuminating his strong features. “I’ve been waiting forever” he whines.

Minseok huffs but proceeds to climb toward him. “I’m coming as fast as I can. This better be worth it.”

“I promise it’s the best view in all of Seoul.”

“That’s what you said about Namsan tower.”

“Second best view in Seoul then.”

Minseok finally comes close enough to grab Tao’s outstretched hand. He lets the younger, more energetic man pull him towards the summit.

The crest of the mountain levels to a flat expanse of rock and hard dirt. “So where is this amazing sight?” Minseok asks, wiping his hands on the legs of his pants.

Tao points and Minseok cranes his neck to follow the gesture. The end of the plateau descends sharply and Minseok is careful not to stand too close to the edge. After the near pitch-black of the forest, the white and yellow and red and purple and blue lights of night-time Seoul glare too bright for Minseok to look at directly. But his eyes quickly adjust and the towering, phosphorescent buildings pull into focus.

He breathes in. He detects faint hints of petrol, fried food, garbage, the stench of humanity in general. Somewhere, a car horn rips through the night. He can’t help feeling a little disenchanted with entire experience.

But a miraculous breeze sifts the air, delicious in the oppressive heat. His next breath cleanses his disappointment and he suddenly understands why Tao likes this view so much. Something about the distance, the way the cars and buildings look like a model city-scape, soothes him. All his problems seem insignificant from that vantage point.

Minseok feels Tao step close to him and rest a hand on his shoulder. 

 

For a long time, neither Minseok nor Tao say a word.

“Hyung, how long have we known each other?” Tao finally asks, his voice soft. He sounds sad, a jarring departure from his customary cheerful demeanor.

Minseok thinks. “Almost four months?”

Although he feels as if he has known Tao since forever ago. Minseok doesn’t make friends quickly and doubts that he and Tao could have become close if the Chinese exchange student hadn’t stubbornly barreled into his life. What started out as a tutor-tutee relationship morphed into hour long study breaks, coffee runs, drinking soju until neither of them could remember their names, and, apparently, midnight hikes into the mountain.

He notes how much Tao’s Korean has improved in such a short time and feels pretty pleased with himself.

Minseok chuckles while recalling an instance involving a club in Gangnam, tequila, triplets from Canada, their identical boyfriends, and a vespa. “Hey Tao,” he says, turning. “Do you remember – ”

Tao wrenches him into an unexpected embrace. “Hyung.” His breath tickles the sensitive skin around Minseok’s ear. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“What are you talking about? Sorry for what?” Minseok tries to pull away but Tao grips him closer.

That’s when he feels it: a sharp prick on the left side of his ribcage. A cold rush of air. Another stab of hot pain.

Tao holds him the entire time, even when his knees buck beneath him. “Don’t fight it. You’ll only hurt worse.”

Minseok’s throat burns as something forces its way up. He tastes the iron on his tongue before it spills out between his lips. It fills his mouth, stealing the space for the oxygen he needs. “Tao,” he manages to gasp. “What…”

He leans back and expects to hit the ground hard but Tao lowers him gently. Stars fill his eyes. His sides knit together painfully with every breath, each one shallower than the last.

Tao mumbles a lengthy monologue but Minseok only catches pieces of it. His hands find a rip in his body, warm and damp on his fingertips.

“…it’s better, for you,

I mean… .

..I tried…

...I told them you weren’t a good candidate………

…..not supposed to know………

……..I’m sorry………

….…if I were to take you back…..

.....I’m really sorry…”

Minseok wants to close his eyes and erase the image of Tao’s tear-filled gaze but he fears he would never be able open them again if he did. “Help,” he pleads. Or he thinks he does. He can’t be sure because he can’t feel his lips.

Tao weaves his fingers, slick with blood, into his own trembling hands. It’s a small gesture of comfort but it comes too late.

The stars dim. Beneath the haze of adrenaline, Minseok feels a fingertip running along his cheek and jawline. He holds on for as long as possible.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, hyung, I’m sorry.”

 

 

*

 

 

_Hyukjae kept Minseok after Mandarin lab one morning. “How do you feel about making some extra money?” he asked._

_Minseok lifted the straps of his bookbag onto his shoulders. He hesitated. “That depends on what you have in mind.”_

_Knowing the intro level Mandarin TA, he expected something involving swallowing a condom of drugs or erotic dancing for old men in night clubs._

_Hyukjae laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing weird or illegal. I know a Chinese exchange student that’s looking to improve his Korean. He’s willing to pay generously for private tutoring.”_

_“Oh.” Minseok hoped the relief on his face wasn’t too obvious. “I’m not sure. I’m pretty busy these days.”_

_“It’d only be a few times a week and his schedule is flexible. At least meet the guy before making a decision. Maybe he can help you with your Mandarin and you can form one of those symbiotic relationships.”_

_Minseok figured there was no harm in just meeting the exchange student. And he could always use the extra money. “All right….when is he looking to start?”_

_“As soon as possible, I think. I’m not entirely sure. His Korean is atrocious.” Hyukjae started packing up. “His name is Tao. I’ll let him know that you’re interested and text you with the details later.”_

_Minseok attended his other classes, got a bite to eat in the cafeteria, studied for a few hours, helped his aunt at the restaurant during the dinner rush, and went home. He had just stepped into the apartment where he lived with his aunt when his phone buzzed._

**_[TA Hyung 10:13 PM] Tomorrow 1PM at Kiki Café. Look for someone tall with dark circles. Cool?_ **

_Initially confused, Minseok belatedly remembered his earlier conversation with Hyukjae. He replied with a quick confirmation before taking off his shoes._

_He still had an hour until his aunt came home after closing the restaurant. He trudged to his room and flung himself on his bed, torn between immediately falling asleep and attempting to use his free time productively._

_He considered calling his mother or his father in Daejeon. He hadn’t spoken to them in almost three weeks which wasn’t unusual. He loved his parents but could not bear their interrogation, the probing questions about school and his non-existent love life._

_He hadn’t been on a date in almost six months. Not since Hyun broke up with him, explaining that she didn’t want to leave for England with strings attached._

_He refused to wallow and flip through old pictures of him and Hyun for the 100th time. He opened his books and studied for a few more hours, taking a break only when his aunt brought him a small plate of sliced fruit as a snack._

_At a quarter past midnight, he washed up and went to sleep._

_The next day, Minseok arrived a little earlier than planned to Kiki café. The shop was popular with university students. Groups of smartly dressed young men and women chattered while enjoying over-priced, over-sweetened coffee drinks._

_Minseok sat alone at a table for two. He tried to ignore the conversation happening at the table behind him but their voices begged to be heard over the soft jazz playing from the speakers._

_Apparently, Soojee got so drunk at the bar last night and went to a hotel with some guy and when she got home, she realized she had forgotten her underwear ha ha ha._

_He began to remember why he didn’t have many friends._

_The bell over the door chimed and Minseok looked up._

_He knew right away that this young man had to be the exchange student._

_**Look for someone tall with dark circles.** _

_Minseok just hadn’t expected the dark circles to be under such fierce eyes and for his lips to be set in a scowl. Small spikes dangled from both his ears and complimented his torn, black jeans. From the way he scanned the room with narrowed eyes, and the lazy jut of his hip, the presumed Tao looked as if he would rather be anywhere but a quaint coffee shop._

_Dread crawled down Minseok’s spine. Just as he contemplated slipping away, hopefully unnoticed, Tao’s gaze fell on him._

_The intense stare softened into half-moons and the corners of the frown lifted in elation. He strode towards Minseok, an eager spring in the way he stepped. “Minseok-oppa,” he greeted, accent thick and awkward. “It’s so nice to meet you.”_

_Minseok hardly noticed Tao’s mistake, shocked by the sudden and total transformation that had taken place in front of him. He nodded, mouth slightly open liken an idiot. He quickly glanced over Tao in what he hoped was a discreet manner but the Chinese student noticed and nervously smooth down his shirt._

_“What?” he asked, combing his hair with his fingers. “Is my face wrong…I mean, not okay?”_

_Minseok managed to pull himself together and smile. “No, not at all,” Minseok assured him. “You’re Tao, right?”_

_“Yes, I am Tao.” He gestured toward the counter. “Something to drink?”_

_Minseok nodded and stood up. They walked up to the register where Tao laboriously ordered a sweet potato mocha latte with an extra pump of syrup. Minseok ordered an iced Americano and pulled out his wallet to pay for both the drinks._

_“No, no,” Tao protested. “I…I…” His brow scrunched into a look of painful confusion, unable to find the correct words to explain himself. His lips gathered into a frustrated pout._

_“It’s fine.” Minseok handed the cashier a 10,000 won bill. “You can get me next time.”_

_"_ _A_ _h, next time?” Tao’s eyes widened. “So you’ll help me?”_

_Minseok paused. He hadn’t planned on making a decision right away but under Tao’s expectant and hopeful gaze, he found refusal impossible. “Of course,” he said as he received his change from the cashier._

_Tao bounced on the balls of his feet. “Okay, next time!” He smiled. “Next time.”_

 

 

*

 

Tao slips the headphones over his ears and adjusts the microphone.

He’s late. The countdown had already begun and the steady, high-pitch beeps bounce against his eardrums in a seemingly unending cadence

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The beeps stop.

The too-bright lights at the head of six poles standing in a hexagon formation beam towards the same center spot.

What starts at a low hum gradually crescendos to eardrum splitting levels and then – Nothing.

For a fraction of a second, the universe falls completely silent. It happens to quickly for anyone to notice unless they are listening for it.

The lights grow dim and from the center of the hexagon, a young man stumbles forward. He falls to his hands and knees, back arched from labored breathing.

Tao rushes over and helps him to his feet. “Are you okay?”

The young man lifts his head and Tao has to bite his lip to keep from screaming. He looks into the face of a ghost and his sanity suffers from whiplash as he remembers that he actually knew Xiumin before he met Minseok.

“Yeah, just a little dizzy.” Xiumin straightens up and leans his head back. “New hairstyle?”

Tao flicks the fringe away from his eyes. He knows what the other agent is really asking. He’s supposed to blend in, not stick out but his newly bleached hair invites second glances. “Just something I’m trying,” he says with a shrug. He slides the headset so that the band dangles around the back of his neck. “This is everything.”

He holds out a plastic baggie containing a cell phone, wallet, and keys.

Xiumin takes the bag and pulls out the cell phone. He uses his thumb to unlock the screen, the blue-ish glow bouncing off his round features. “It’s pretty primitive,” he remarks.

“Believe it or not, this is one of the newest models that exists here,” says Tao.

Xiumin smirks and pushes the slim phone into his back pocket. He looks around the space which is empty except for the six poles. “So where is he? Is Eunhyuk bringing him?”

“He – ” Tao clears the knot of sadness and fear in his throat. “There were complications. I’ll be going back to the Institute alone.”

“Oh.” Xiumin blinks. “Alright then.”

 _‘Typical Xiumin,’_ Tao thinks. He can never tell what the reticent young man is really thinking, an issue he shares with the Minseok.

_‘Shared with Minseok.’_

Xiumin lifts his hand and slowly reaches for Tao’s throat.

Tao jerks back and glares. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry,” says Xiumin, his voice infuriatingly even and detached. “You’ve got a little bit of blood right here.” He demonstrates on the hollow dip below his own throat.

_‘Fucking hell…typical Xiumin.’_


	2. Second Thread - Kyungsoo

Kyungsoo recognizes the beat-up Converse with scuffed toes by the doorway. He slips off his own sneakers and finds the person he expected on the ancient leather couch, head down and eyes glued to the screen of a computer tablet. “Hi Sehun.”

Sehun glances up at him through his long fringe. “Hi hyung. What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Kyungsoo repeats, eyebrows raised. “You’re asking me what I’m doing here in my own apartment. What the hell are you doing here? Did Chanyeol let you in?”

Sehun nods and turns back to the screen, scrolling with the pad of his thumb. “He’s taking a shower. Why don’t you sit down?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t understand why he’s being invited to sit in his own home but nevertheless, he lowers himself onto the empty space next to Sehun. “Playing a game?”

“Hm?” Sehun shakes his head. “Just finished reading an interview that Chanyeol-hyung did with some progressive website. I’ll send you the link. It is hilarious-and kind of pathetic-because the interviewer is clearly in love with him. She totally wants to suck his – ”

The bathroom door opens with a loud squeal and interrupts Sehun. A damp warmth pumps into the rest of the tiny apartment and a lanky body steps out of the mist, into the living room. “I thought I heard your voice,” says Chanyeol. He had wrapped his hair in a pink towel turban but hadn’t bothered to cover the most important bits of his anatomy, letting them air-dry. “How have you been, roomie? I feel like we haven’t seen each other in weeks.”

“It’s only been few days,” says Kyungsoo, looking away and vowing to never again room with someone who doesn’t feel the need to cover their naked body when they have guests although Sehun hardly counts.

“Aw, a few days is still too many to be away from you.” Chanyeol strolls over to the couch and steps into the narrow space between Kyungsoo and Sehun. The cushions groan as they cave beneath his feet. His fingers search for the power button on the AC unit mounted high on the wall. The leftover water from his shower drips and lands on the sitting figures below him.

While Sehun responds with complete indifference to the wet spots on his shoulder, Kyungsoo leaps up and stumbles away. “Chanyeol, you-you’re getting your dick water everywhere!”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol laughs. He hops down from the couch and the room vibrates. “But seriously, how have you been? Come give me a hug.”

“No.” Kyungsoo crosses his arms. “Get away from me. Stop it!” He backs away as Chanyeol lumbers toward him.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” Chanyeol turns and heads toward his room. “Sehun, we’re leaving in ten minutes. Be ready,” he instructs before closing the door.

Kyungsoo unfolds his arms and reclaims his seat next to Sehun, ignoring the drops of water all over the cushions. Sehun turns off his tablet and safely stows it away in his backpack. “Hyung, are you busy tonight?”

“I’ve got some homework,” Kyungsoo replies. “Why do you ask?”

“We’re meeting with the student government association of a women’s college and thought you might want to come.”

“You know I’m not interested in politics,” Kyungsoo says patiently. “That’s your and Chanyeol’s field.”

“Yeah, I know but,” Sehun smiles, “there will be _girls_. You’re still interested in women, right?”

“Last I check, yeah.”

“And when was that?”

Kyungsoo ignores Sehun and tips his head against the back of the couch, letting the frigid air from the AC swirl over him. He changes the subject to something he knows Sehun can’t resist. “How’s your blog doing?”  

“It’s great,” says Sehun, shifting towards Kyungsoo in excitement. “I have almost 7,000 followers and only a handful of them send me really mean messages. Have you read my latest post?”

“I’ve been meaning to,” Kyungsoo lies, “but between lessons and school, I’ve been so busy.” That part is true.

Sehun gives him a sympathetic look. “I worry about you sometimes, hyung. Aren’t you lonely? You work too hard.”

Kyungsoo bites back a retort along the lines of asking what kid like Sehun would know. A kid like Sehun whose family supports him despite the fact that the most productive thing he’s ever contributed to society is a paranoid conspiracy theory blog.

But he knows that Sehun’s concern comes from good intentions, from his kind heart buried under layers of insolence and glib comments about Kyungoo’s height and lack of social life. 

He just wishes that he didn’t find all the attention so burdensome.

“I know,” he says, managing a smile. “I’ll try to live a more balanced life.”

 

Sehun grins and pinches the skin of Kyungsoo’s cheek.

Kyungsoo raises a fist and takes back every nice thing he’s thought about the blogger in the year they’ve known each other. Sehun releases him and scrambles back, laughing.

 

Chanyeol joins them in the living room, dressed in fitted dark-wash jeans and a plaid button down. He drops the navy blue backpack in his hands and spins around once, holding out his arms. “How do I look?”

Sehun rolls his eyes while Kyungsoo mumbles a perfunctory “fine.”

Chanyeol smiles, pleased, and remains standing with his arms spread as wide as wings. He looks at them expectantly.  Although for what, Kyungsoo can’t imagine.

Sehun takes out his phone and starts typing, incapable of being away from Twitter/Instagram/Kakao/his blog for more than couple minutes. Kyungsoo taps out steady quarter notes in common time on his knee and looks out the window. His mind wander to nowhere in particular although it briefly stops at his pile of homework before meandering to his lesson with little Jo-eun tomorrow and then a mental note to buy more eggs.

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol calls.

He turns, plucked from his reverie.

Chanyeol hasn’t lowered his arms and his face still wears the same eager expression.

“What?” Kyungsoo asks.

“I’m still waiting for my hug. I’m fully clothed now so you don’t have to feel weird about it,” says Chanyeol.  

Kyungsoo feels a need to repent for refusing to play along earlier. He stands up, grudgingly walks over and leans into his roommate, his arms hanging by his sides. Chanyeol bends down and wraps him in an affectionate embrace. Kyungsoo can’t help but hug him back.

 

Something warm and heavy slams into him from behind and Kyungsoo realizes that Sehun has joined their cuddle, effectively trapping him between the two taller men. He grunts in displeasure and tries to escape but they squeeze together even tighter. Kyungsoo wonders if they planned this.

 “We’re never letting you go,” Chanyeol declares.

“Not ever,” Sehun adds.

Kyungsoo squirms and hopes they will sense his annoyance without having to verbally confront them. But this only seems to motivate Chanyeol and Sehun into further tormenting him.

“Stop struggling. Just let us love you.”

“Let us love you, hyung.”

“Get off!” Kyungsoo tries to swing his fists but his arms are still pinned to his side by Chanyeol, and now Sehun as well. He kicks his feet but the motion does little to propel him out of their grasp.

“Why are you fighting this so hard?” A hint of genuine irritation could be heard under Chanyeol’s usual cheerful voice.  

“It’s not as if you can get away,” says Sehun. They crush him tighter to prove their point.  

 

“Guys, I…can’t…” Kyungsoo closes his eyes and goes completely still. His sock-covered feet slide back as his body sags under their hold.

“Hey,” says Chanyeol. “Kyungsoo.”

“Did he pass out?” Sehun asks. “Hyung, are you okay?” He steps back and Kyungsoo nearly crashes to the floor. Chanyeol catches him at the last moment and pulls him close. 

“Shit, I think the shock from the hug might have actually knocked him out,” Chanyeol hisses. He looks down at the small face pushed against him, chin digging into his chest. “Has he always been this pale?”

Sehun shrugs and nervously chews on a nail.

Long eyelashes flip upward to reveal wide brown eyes. “Yes,” Kyungsoo answers calmly.

Sehun nearly bites off his thumb and screams while Chanyeol, after taking a second to recover, laughs hysterically. His laughter bounces off the walls and ripples back through the air. “You're so weird. I knew you were faking,” he boasts.

“Sure you did.” Kyungsoo untangles himself from Chanyeol’s limbs. “Anyways, don’t you guys have a meeting or something?”

Chanyeol snaps his fingers. “Yes, thank you for reminding us. Let’s make plans to spend some time together, I mean really spend some time together, soon.” He scoops up the backpack at his feet and hurries to the door. “Don’t study too hard!”

“Bye, hyung,” Sehun calls, scuttling after Chanyeol.

The door slams shut and the silence that settles in the apartment is empty and bleak. Kyungsoo misses them already. Not that he would ever admit it.

The most he is willing to admit is that Chanyeol makes the perfect roommate for someone who enjoys their privacy. Between classes and extracurricular activities and a wide social circle, he hardly uses the apartment for more than sleep and showers. Kyungsoo practically lives alone.

 

He goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge. Containers of side dishes, half a carton of eggs, an almost empty carton of milk, and a variety of sauces fill half the space. All of the food belongs to Kyungsoo. If he were to search, he could maybe find an old apple core that belongs to Chanyeol.

He makes himself a simple dinner and eats while reading the article Sehun sent him on his phone.

 

_It’s not hard to understand why Park Chanyeol has become the most popular figures of this nation’s student activism movement. With his devilish good-looks and impressive height, he looks the part of the campus heartthrob in a TV drama._

 

Kyungsoo smirks and takes a bite of fried egg.

 

_But spend a few minutes with him and it’s clear that there is more to this young man than his handsome appearance. His wide smile puts people at ease and his deep voice soothes anyone fortunate enough to hear him speak. Youth Movement was lucky enough to spend some time with the rising activist star._

_YM: Thank you for taking the time to speak with us. We know you’re very busy._

_CY: Not at all. It’s really my pleasure._

_YM: So what was it that sparked your interest in political activism?_

_CY: I wouldn’t say there was any single event or ‘spark’ because I’ve always been interested in politics. But the older I became, which isn’t very old since I’m only 25, I started to think of politics less as governments and institutions of power and more in terms of people and the individual._

_YM: That’s fascinating. Could you elaborate on what you mean by that?_

_CY: [Smiles] I just mean that for me, activism is very personal. I have a hard time being motivated by ideals such as democracy or equality. Some people are deeply principled and can act on values alone and I envy them because I’m not nearly as good._

_As a former journalism major, I met all kinds of people, many of whom were in difficult situations because of another party’s greed and self-interest. They lost things that were very important to them. And I’m not going to pretend that I know what they’ve gone through. I was just some yuppie kid who used fancy words to sell their pain._

_But it’s hard to ignore the injustice they’ve endured when you’ve seen their homes, met their spouses and children, parents and siblings. Behind every sappy background music filled human interest story is a full-fledged person and once that veil of distance is lifted, you can’t just stand by and do nothing._

 

Kyungsoo skims the rest of the article. Although he admires Chanyeol and Sehun for their attempts to make the world a better place, politics remains outside his realm of interest.

 

_YM: I want to thank you again for letting us speak with you. But for the sake of journalism, I have one final question: are you single?_

_CY: [Laughs] At the moment, yes._

 

Kyungsoo closes out of the page. He sends Chanyeol a text:

**Campus heartthrob, huh?**

He clears off the table, washes the dishes and slots them into the drying rack next to the sink. His phone beeps.

**[Chanyeol 6:43 PM]**

**Did Sehun send you that interview? I’m going to kill him.**

Kyungsoo laughs but with nobody to hear him, his solitude feels like a blow to the chest.

 

 

_I worry about you sometimes, hyung. Aren’t you lonely?_

 

 

Sehun’s words creep to the surface. Kyungsoo pushes them away. He can’t afford to think about it too much. He has homework to do.

 

He settles at his desk with his ‘Film and Music’ instructions. The class is less interesting that he thought it would be and he finds himself reading the instructions for his essay over and over again. He pushes the piece of paper away, frustrated with his lack of concentration.

His phone beeps a text message notification and he lunges for it, desperate for a distraction.

**[Sehun 7:32 PM]**

**Youre missing out. So many hot girls here.**

 

Kyungsoo replies:

**Dont make me feel worse than I already do. I havent even started my homework.**

 

**[Sehun 7:32 PM]**

**Dont do your homework.**

 

Kyungsoo replies:

**Id rather not fail my film music class. Its supposed to be an easy a.**

 

**[Sehun 7:33 PM]**

**Flim music? Go see a movie then. Same thing right?**

 

Kyungsoo scoffs at the suggestion. Watching a movie and writing an essay that psychoanalyzes the effect a score can have during a traumatic scene are not even close to being the same thing.  

 

 

He opens a new Word document and types his name, the date, the class, and the professor’s name in the far left corner of the page.

 

 

The document autosaves six times while he struggles to begin his essay. A movies starts to seem like a more productive use of his time than his current course of action.

 

 

He sighs. _‘Fuck it.’_ He grabs his wallet and heads out of the apartment.

 

Kyungsoo welcomes the chatter of the world after the brutal quiet of his empty apartment. School girls roaming in packs, children trading playing cards, grandmothers with their hair in rollers and bowl-legged grandfathers in tow.

He is half-way to the bus stop when he realizes that he should have checked movie times before he left.

 _‘Fuck it.’_ He’s come too far to turn back. He marches on to the bus stop which is mercifully less crowded than usual.

 

Despite the sweltering heat, a familiar shiver creeps down Kyungsoo’s back. The light layer of sweat on his skin turns cold.

 

He knows he’s being paranoid. There’s no reason why he would be followed.

 

But sometimes when Kyungsoo studies at the library, he feels a strange presence watching him through the shelves, over the rows of books. Sometimes he feels it when he leaves the music academy where he works part-time as a piano teacher. This is the first time he's felt it so close to home.

 

The discomfort follows him like a haze, stepping onto the bus and sitting in the empty seat to his left. The bus pulls away, trapping Kyungsoo with an ominous dread. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks for reading this chapter. Please feel free to kudos or leave comments.


	3. SEHUN & JOONMYEON

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why it's so hard for me to remember to post it here when I'm already at chapter 9 or something on AFF. I'll post the rest of the chapter tonight so AO3 and AFF will all be the same.

Story 3 – Sehun

 

A changeling is a creature in European folklore that is secretly swapped with a human child when their parents are not looking. Physically, the changeling resembles the missing child in every way but their spirits are completely separate, allowing their families to distinguish a changeling from their own offspring.

Good evening readers of Cui Bono.

This week’s entry will be a bit of a departure from the usual thought provoking, carefully built argument that you’re used to. I want to start a discussion, one that is a little far-fetched even for this blog. But first, I would like to tell you about the first best friend I ever made. I ask that you indulge me and read until the end. 

When I was a second year middle school student, I met someone I will refer to as J-hyung.

J-hyung and I met online through a mutual interest in UFO’s and extraterrestrial biological entities. We e-mailed each other a few times, trading theories and ideas. After the fourth or fifth exchange, he suggested we meet up.

I agreed.

I know what you’re thinking. As a cute, young teenager, that was extremely stupid and dangerous. There was no way for me to be certain that he wasn’t some kind of sexual predator or serial killer. Only in retrospect do I realize how fortunate I was because J-hyung was exactly who he claimed to be: just another student who valued the truth above all.

 

  
(After all the emails, the proposal to meet, the enthusiastic agreement, and arrival at the rendezvous point; it wasn’t until Sehun sat down at an empty table in a busy café that the first flash of doubt crossed his mind.

‘What if he’s totally weird? I mean, weirder than me. That might be too weird.’

He tried to remember if anything in the emails could be interpreted as a red flag, an indication that his new-found friend would be excessively bizarre. Did he mention any cats or weird hobbies such as taxidermy…

“Sehun?”

His head snapped toward his name. “Oh…hello. Are you – ” he swallowed nervously as he stared at the boy in front of him “ – Kim Joonmyeon-nim?”

The scrape of a chair. A brilliant smile. “Maybe a hundred years from now but you can just call me hyung.”)

 

We connected instantly. Even though he was two years older than me, he never ordered me around because he wasn’t that kind of person. The only time he brought up his age was when he wanted to treat me which was often. I didn’t mind because his family is rich.

I mean, really rich. He comes from old money, one of the few dynasties who managed to stay wealthy when the world fell apart and got even richer once the economy improved. I have a sneaking suspicion that his family played a hand in the Gold Crisis of 1952 but alas, I do not have any proof.

We spoke about our futures often. As the only son of an influential family, he was expected to help continue their reign. But J-hyung had other plans. He didn’t know what those were exactly…but he knew he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in a suit, trying to please people he didn’t give a damn about.

 

(Sehun checked the time again. It wasn’t like Joonmyeon to be late, at least not without sending a text first.

Twenty minutes passed. He started to worry something happened and his mind wandered to the darkest possibilities. Just before he overthought himself into a mild panic, a familiar figure ran towards him.

“Sorry, Sehun.” Joonmyeon slowed to a stop. He doubled over, out of breath. “The stupid dinner thing ran longer than I thought it would and I didn’t realize I had forgotten my phone until half-way here."

“It’s okay.” Sehun realized that Joonmyeon still wore his suit and tie. “You could’ve gone home and changed first. I would’ve have waited”

Joonmyeon straightened and smiled. “Didn’t feel like riding back to the house with my father. He’s had a few too many drinks and when he gets like that, he likes to remind me of my responsibilities to the family business. I’d much rather be here with you. Thanks for waiting.”

“Of course.” Sehun jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the entrance of the PC Room behind them. “I hope you’re looking forward to getting your ass kicked at StarCraft.”)

 

In his third year of high school, J-hyung confessed that he thought he was being followed. I didn’t take it seriously because girls followed him all the time. He was very popular thanks to his face. Many times we’d be out in public and girls would stare and giggle, sometimes even try to sneak pictures of him.

 

(Sehun heard the familiar click of a camera. He turned and glared at a pair tittering middle school girls but his gaze didn’t seem to affect them at all. They continued to follow at a distance of exactly four meters behind them, weaving through the crowded sidewalk.

Joonmyeon sucked up the last of his iced coffee. “What’s with the grumpy face?” he asked, looking around for a place to throw away his empty cup.

“These girls have been tailing you for five blocks,” Sehun seethed. “Don’t they have better things to do?

“Maybe it’s not me they’re following. Maybe it’s you.” Joonmyeon reached up and slung an arm around Sehun’s bony shoulders. “If I were them, I’d choose you over me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sehun scoffed. “Of course they’re not interested in me.”) 

 

I suggested he tell his family about his concerns but he stubbornly refused. If his father thought there was the slightest chance than J-hyung could be in danger, he would never be allowed out of the house again. The future of the company depended on him staying alive.

But a few months after he first mentioned his invisible stalker, something strange happened. We were on our way to a record store when he suddenly grabbed my wrist and squeezed so hard that it actually hurt. He dragged me into the closest alleyway and started ranting. 

 

(“Sehun, listen, please. Someone is following me and I don’t mean some girls with a misplaced crush. It’s somebody or something…I don’t know who or why it’s happening but I’m not imagining it. It’s really happening. And we only have a few minutes before they find me again. You believe me, don’t you Sehun? I’m not crazy. I swear I’m not crazy. Something is coming for me. I can feel it. I can’t get away from it. They’re everywhere. Sehun, if they get me, you have to promise…promise me you won’t let them change you too. Always be as kind and weird and wonderful as you are now. Life is too long and shitty to be any other way. Sehun, I’m scared. I’m scared I won’t see you again. They’re coming for me. Sehun…”)

 

He kept glancing over his shoulder with this wild look in his eyes.

 

(Joonmyeon put a hand on Sehun’s chest and pushed so gently that he doesn’t realize he’s moved until his back hits the building.  
“Promise me.”

His breath ghosted over Sehun’s collarbone. While he had been much shorter than Joonmyeon when they first met, Sehun had grown significantly in those two years and was now the taller of the pair. Never had he felt the difference so strongly as he did in that moment. 

“O-okay, I promise.” Sehun looked to his right and saw the end of the alley. To his left, people hurried by without sparing the two boys a first glace. Above was the twilight sky. He was about to comment on how nothing seemed out of the ordinary when he felt warm lips cover his own.) 

 

Without any warning, he let go and bolted.

 

(The kiss lasted no longer than a second. The warmth left Sehun before he had time to process what just happened. He blinked and Joonmyeon was gone.)

 

Once I figured out he wasn’t coming back, I ran after him but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch up. Two blocks later, I lost him for good.

 

(Sehun ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He could have sworn he saw Joonmyeon enter this parking garage and followed him to the top floor. The garage contained only a single stairwell which meant that unless Joonmyeon jumped off the roof, he had to be somewhere nearby.

He called Joonmyeon repeatedly but received nothing but his voicemail. After nearly 45 minutes of fruitless searching between every car, he started to doubt himself.)

 

That was the last time I saw him.

 

(Sehun dialed Joonmyeon’s number one last time. It didn’t even ring. His phone had been turned off.)

 

The person who greeted me when I went around to his gigantic house the next day was not my J-hyung. This person certainly looked and sounded like him but he was aloof and distant. He brushed off his strange behavior as nerves because of upcoming college entrance exams and said a kid like me couldn’t understand.

 

(Joonmyeon seemed quite composed, even more than usual. He smiled but Sehun could see the slight quirk of an eyebrow, indicating his impatience.

“But what about…” Sehun looked down, unable to face Joonmyeon without turning red. He knew he had to ask. Otherwise, he would wonder for the rest of his life. “In the alley…”

“I told you, that was nothing. The pressure and stress just made me snap, do crazy things.” Joonmyeon crossed his arms. “I promise, you won’t see that again.”)

 

I didn’t show it but what he said…it broke my heart.

 

(Sehun couldn’t breathe. This is how he would die. Asphyxiation by heartbreak.)

 

As someone younger, I confided in him often but he used to confide in me as well. I pretended to be so cool and wise about it but the truth is, I couldn’t believe that someone like J-hyung would trust me with his insecurities.

 

(Joonmyeon groaned and clutched his stomach, thrashing around Sehun’s bed like a bug flipped on its back. “That glass of milk was a big mistake. I just want to be taller! Sehun, I think I’m dying. Bury me in my favorite blue sweater and tell my mother I love her.”

“You’re not dying, you big baby.” Sehun tossed a few packets of white pills next to his head. “Take these. You’ll feel better.”

“No, no, this is definitely the end. My only regret is that I’m going to die a virgin. That and we didn’t finish the last season of the X-Files.”

Sehun sighed and tore open one of the pill packets. He poked one of the white pellets into Joonmyeon’s mouth. He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and when he came back, Joonmyeon was sitting up with the pill between his lips.

“Thanks,” he said gratefully. He threw his head back and chased the medicine with the entire glass. “I think I feel –--- ugh. Never mind.” He resumed the fetal position and continued to moan pitifully.

Sehun sat on the edge of the bed. He stared at Joonmyeon’s back as he tried to draft his question in the least awkward way possible. “Hyung, are you really…?”

“Really what? Lactose intolerant?”

“No, I mean,” Sehun felt his face heat up, “are you really a virgin?”

Joonmyeon slowly turned onto his back, a solemn look on his face and eyes staring at the ceiling. After a moment of silence, he said, “do you really think if something as miraculous as losing my virginity happened you wouldn’t be the first person to find out?”)

 

Over the next few weeks, J-hyung did not return a single text or phone call. However, I am nothing if not persistent and the next time I went over to his house, he politely, albeit reluctantly, invited me in. He explained that he had been busy catching up on his studies since, until recently, he had wasted so much time reading comic books and watching The X-Files.

I took personal offense to that since we regularly lent each other our comics and had invested interest in the sexual tension between Agent Scully and Agent Mulder.   
But besides having my feelings hurt, the visit achieved nothing in the way of deciphering why J-hyung had been acting so strange.

 

(Sehun recognized the subtle cue that their conversation was over and stood up.

Joonmyeon offered him an empty smile and walked him to the front door. “I’ll give you a call once the entrance exams are over,” he said unconvincingly.

Sehun turned. Anger bubbled in his chest, his fingers, his legs, his head, blurring the outer edges of his vision.

‘He’s lying. He’s fucking lying to me. Again.’

His hands flew out and grabbed the collar of Joonmyeon’s expensive shirt, twisting the fabric in his fists. “Don’t…” He trailed off, the lump in his throat rendering him unable to speak.

Joonmyeon sighed. “Look, I know you’re upset – ”

Sehun cut him off with a kiss. A kiss in which he channeled all of his anger and frustration and regret and loyalty and affection. He endured the claws that struggled to shove him back until he felt so light-headed, he thought he would fall apart.

He uncurled his hands and pulled away, breathing heavily. He felt a tiny scrap of satisfaction from the look of complete shock on Joonmyeon’s face.

“I promised you I wouldn’t change, didn’t I?”)

 

It’s possible that there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for why J-hyung changed into a different person overnight. However, we are not here to discuss the reasonable but to demand the truth.

Over the years, I’ve mulled over every possible theory: mind control, brainwashing, alien abduction, cyborgs, clones. I’ve examined and re-examined the events and conversations leading up to J-hyung’s abrupt change. Still, no solid theory emerges.

But I’ve started to think my experience is not so unique. J-hyung was special but he could not be the only person of interest to whoever is responsible. And if we can gather enough cases, then a pattern should emerge.

So readers, I invite you to spread the word and contribute your own stories of unexplainable ‘changelings.’ There is a conspiracy afoot to replace the population with replicas and we need to stay one step ahead of whoever benefits from such an experiment if we want to survive. 

 

(‘If you’re still out there hyung, I miss you’)

*

(Joonmyeon squinted into the bright light hanging over him. The surface he’d been laid out on is hard and cold. He couldn’t move, as if someone had nailed him down. He tried to see out of his peripheral vision but everything was a hazy daze.

Indistinguishable voices. Something pricked his arm and his eyelids grew heavy. 

He’d watched enough television to know what was going on.

Alien abduction.

He just hoped they remembered to properly redress him before letting him go.)

 

  
(More than anything, he wanted to take off the blindfold. It was knotted too tightly and he felt a headache creeping up as a result. He tested the binding around his wrists again but it held as taut as the last time. He pushed his face into the plastic mattress he was laying on.

He suppressed the urge to cry and tried to reassure himself that even though he and his father did not get along, Joonmyeon was still his son and he would pay whatever ransom they demanded. His father wouldn’t leave him to be killed. He repeated this to himself over and over until he heard footsteps approaching.

What sounded like a few pairs of heavy footwear and, surprising, a pair of high heels, stopped. A key turned and hinges squeaked as a door opened.

Hands, gentler than he expected, sat him upright and took off the blindfold. He blinked a few times against the light.

Two men dressed in black fatigues and carrying large guns stood by the door. A third guard unfolded a metal chair for the woman with them.

She wore a lab coat over a matching two-piece suit and had a clipboard in her hands. Her face was pale and pretty. She smiled at him. 

“Hello Joonmyeon,” she said, sitting in the chair. “My name is Dana.”)

 

(He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was an unfamiliar concrete ceiling. Panic flooded his entire system, inciting every nerve.

The adrenaline faded a bit as he remembered his situation: every day, he woke up and Dana would ask him a series of questions about his life while he ate his first meal. She asked the same questions every day. Then the guards would bring him to an examination room where they put him through a series of tests. Depending on the week, the tests were different.

Sometimes, he underwent hypnosis. Other times, they stuck pads to his head and gently electrocuted him. A few times, they pumped him with drugs.  
He heard the familiar stomping of boots and heels. He sat up.)

 

  
(He knew her. He knew her but his brain frantically tried to bridge her name and face together without success. She always brought the guards and breakfast.  
He stared and he knew it was rude but he was frightened. How could he not remember her name?

She looked concerned. “Joonmyeon, are you okay? You’ve hardly touched your food.”

It clicked.

‘Dana. Of course.’) 

 

(She spoke to him as if they had known each other for years. But he didn't know her or how they were acquainted.

“Joonmyeon.”

His hand trembled as he picked up the thing to help him eat. A spoon.

“Joonmyeon?”

He carefully scooped the oatmeal and raised the spoon to his lips.

“Joonmyeon, are you listening to me?”

He realized she had been calling him. Joonmyeon. That was his name.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He dropped the spoon into his oatmeal and the pasty porridge splattered over the tray.

Everything felt worn and done before. How many times had she brought him breakfast and called out to him while he couldn’t make the connection between himself and his own name? He felt a dull twinge in his chest, something reminiscent of shame and self-disgust.

One of the guards took away the messy plastic tray while the others remained. The woman – most certainly not a guard since she was dressed like scientist – reached over and took his hand. “Joonmyeon, would you like to go outside?” she asked softly.

Something new stirred in his heart. Excitement? Relief? He nodded.)

 

(She draped a blanket over his lap before they wheeled him outside. “We don’t want to you get cold like last time,” she explained.

He doesn’t distinctly recall ever going outside with her but the statement felt agreeable. She walked beside him as someone else pushed the chair.

The wind blew right through his clothes. He shivered and pulled the blanket higher. He wanted to go back but his teeth clacked together so powerfully that he couldn’t speak. Using what little strength he had, he raised his arm and reached out for the woman. His fingers grazed her wrist.

She looked down and noticed his trembling shoulders. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer.

“Tao, take him inside.” She sounded worried. “I’ll set up a bed for him in the infirmary.”)

 

(She had asked him his name but he didn’t know.

That wasn’t entirely true. There was a name. It rattled around in his brain like a loose bolt, too erratic to stick, although he didn't know if it was his name or her name or the name of else. Perhaps it was the name of the young man – a young teenager really – all sharp chin and sharper eyes, standing in the corner.

“Can you tell me your name?” she repeated.

He wondered why she looked so sad. He wanted to tell her that she was pretty and to smile. He wanted her to smile so he told her the name in his head.

“Sehun.”)


	4. XIUMIN

Story 4 – Xiumin

Xiumin takes his coffee from the barista and sits in his usual spot: the long bench farthest from the entrance of the cafe. With his plastic cup in one hand, he discreetly slides the other along the underside of the seat. His fingers brush nothing but smooth, worn-down wood. He can’t help but feel relieved.

If Tao needs to communicate with Xiumin for any reason, he leaves a coded note taped under the seat. Sunroom Coffee Shop is ideal for that purpose. Xiumin frequents the shop every day for his usual order of iced Americano so nobody questions his presence. The bench is nailed to the floor which means it can’t be stacked like the other chairs at the end of the day and the note is unlikely to fall into the wrong hands.

It has been almost a year since Xiumin became Minseok and he has heard from Tao only a handful of times, mostly just to reassure him that he hasn’t been forgotten. 

But Xiumin doesn’t mind. He finds his new life surprising easy.

A young man slides in next to him. He sighs loudly and says in a soft accent, “this shift is going by so slow. I’m bored, Minseok.” He fiddles with his strawberry blonde fringe.

“Go clean off the tables or something,” Xiumin suggests. He picks up one of the magazines from the side table and flips through it, killing time until he has to go to class.

“Already did. And I cleaned the back, restocked everything, and made a fresh batch of coffee.” Luhan glances up at the clock. “I still have four hours and 32 minutes until my shift ends.”

“Maybe it will get busy soon,” says Xiumin although he doubts it. Sunroom Coffee Shop has lost a lot of customers to some of the newer cafes on the same street and isn’t as busy as it used to be.

*

Tao hadn’t known about Minseok’s Chinese pen-pal because he didn’t think that people still engaged in writing letters on paper and sending them via international post. 

Xiumin found the letters in an empty shoebox under Minseok’s bed. He read through nearly a year’s worth of weekly letters in a single night.

(Dear Minseok,

How come you didn’t sign on to play Diablo last night? Well, I’m sure you had your reasons and by the time you get this, we’ll have already played again. 

The potential problem I had with my student visa has been worked out. I’m officially going to meet you in two months! It’s strange to think we’ve been writing to each other for over a year and have never met. By the way, my hair is different from the picture I sent you. It’s currently a dark red but I might change it again before I come to Korea.

I’d like to do something really crazy with my appearance while I’m still a student because once I’m a functioning (ha) adult, I’ll have to be boring. Purple or blue hair? I was originally leaning towards purple but then I watched a cartoon where the main character had blue hair and he was so cool.

I’ve thought about what you wrote last time. I guess if you really insist, we can exchange email addresses in case of an emergency. My email is Han_Lu361@163.com

Don’t forget – last Thursday of October in front of Yonsei University. Be there or be dead.

Your friend,

Lu Han)

There was something Xiumin liked about this Lu Han and he was curious to know what kind of person insisted on writing letters when there were faster ways to communicate.

He wrote back a few times, keeping his messages short and vague. He asked what time they should meet and Lu Han replied, letter arriving two days before their first in-person encounter, suggesting they have lunch so around noon?

Xiumin marked the date on the calendar with a red pen.

On the last Thursday of October, he made his way to Sinchon and fought his way through the crowds. He hoped that Lu Han would recognize him since he never found the picture that Minseok supposedly received.

Xiumin wished there was some place to sit down near the front gate of Yonsei University. While the weather had cooled off somewhat since his arrival to Seoul, the humidity drained him of what energy he did have. He started to sweat even though he was hardly moving, partly from nerves. He had been Minseok for less than two months and still not completely at ease in his role.

At 12:15, someone lightly tapped his shoulder. He turned.

“Excuse me, are you Minseok?” a wide-eyed young man asked.

Xiumin, more out of habit than anything else, made close note of the pretty boy speaking to him. 

His face was tiny, the size of a CD, and pale. His nose was small and round, his eyes even rounder and large. His hair was an unnatural light pink and swept to the side. Height, weight, posture, voice – he took it all in as bullet points of a report.

Xiumin extended his hand. “Yes. Hi, it’s nice to meet you, Lu Han.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you too!” Lu Han took Xiumin’s hand and shook enthusiastically. “You look much better than your picture.” Without letting go, he tugged him towards the busy area across the street. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

*

“The coffee is good,” Lu Han says. “But the décor leaves a lot to be desired. Like this.” He pats the bench they’re sitting on. “I wish the owner would take my renovating ideas more seriously.”

“Oh, I think the bench is fine,” Xiumin says carefully. “Maybe they need new baristas. You’re not pulling in the female customers like you used to, Lu Han. You’re losing your touch.”

“What! How dare you?” Lu Han squawks. “I’m the only reason we still have any customers at all.” He fiddles with his hair again. “But maybe I should go back to bleach blonde.”

“Or maybe you should stop mentioning your girlfriend,” Xiumin suggests. “I’m serious. It breaks the fantasy of the cute barista who serves them beverages with a wink and cheeky smile if they know that you’re unavailable.”

Lu Han seems to contemplate this for a moment. “You really think I’m cute?”

Xiumin pushes him off the bench. “Idiot,” he mutters.

“Oh, speaking of girlfriend…” Lu Han stands up and dusts off his apron. “She’ll be here any minute. She has something to ask you.”

“Lu Han, no.” Xiumin groans. “For the millionth time, I don’t want to be set up on any more blind dates.”

The chime above the door spins and tinkles. A petite girl, no more than 150 cm tall although her heels put her closer to 160 cm, enters and looks around the empty café.

“You might as well tell her that yourself.” Lu Han raises a hand and waves. “We’re over here!”

She flips her long, black hair as she walks toward them, her skirt bouncing dangerously high with every step. She is Lu Han’s fourth girlfriend since he came to Korea ten months prior, a fact Xiumin is sure that she is unaware of. “Hey, sweetie,” she says. She stands on her tiptoes and gives Lu Han a quick kiss. She turns and smiles.  
“Hi Minseok.”

“Hi Subin. How have you been?” Xiumin asks politely.

“I’ve been really well, thank you for asking.” She suddenly drops herself in the spot that Lu Han had recently vacated. “Now, before you say anything, I want you to take a look at some pictures.”

“I don’t – ” Xiumin starts but Subin cuts him off with a glare.

She begins rummaging through her oversized purse. Xiumin sends Lu Han a silent plea with his eyes but he merely laughs.

“I’m so happy right now. My two favorite people in the world sitting together at my favorite place in the world,” he says.

Subin finds her phone amidst the contents of her bag. “Here we go,” she says and pulls up the photo gallery. She swipes until she finds the picture she is looking for. “Her name is Soyeon. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

Lu Han squeezes into the space next to Subin’s other side, interest obviously piqued. “She’s very pretty,” he agrees. “Minseok, don’t you think she’s pretty?”

Xiumin grudgingly admits that yes, the girl in the picture is pretty, very pretty in fact. But all of the girls that Subin tries to set up with him are attractive. He’s not sure if she knows any ugly people.

“Best of all, Soyeon is recently single,” Subin continues, “and she’s not looking for anything serious so it’s low pressure. I showed her your picture and she thinks you’re really cute.”

“What picture?” Xiumin asks suspiciously.

Swipe, swipe, she holds her phone out for them to see. The photo is a slightly candid one since Xiumin is looking off to the side and he doesn’t remember it being taken. But Lu Han is next to him, his arm slung around his neck, staring straight into the lens, caught mid-laugh. He looks extraordinarily ugly.

“This picture is no good,” Lu Han says, attempting to the grab the phone. His girlfriend moves it out of his reach. “It’s misleading. And the angle make Minseok look taller than me which we all know is not true.”

Xiumin reaches over Subin and pushes Lu Han to the floor with a single shove, exactly where he landed before.

Subin ‘tsks’ and stands up. “I’m going to use the ladies room. Minseok, let me know what you think about Soyeon when I get back.” She steps across Lu Han, the sharp point of her heel falling less than an inch from the delicate space between his legs.

The hem of her skirt swings just below the top of her thighs. Xiumin’s eyes follow the back and forth motion, hypnotized. His stomach coils in a not unpleasant way. 

Lu Han scrambles to his feet. “So what do you think of Soyeon?” he asks eagerly. “I have met her personally and can vouch that she is as pretty as in her picture.”

“It’s not that she isn’t pretty,” says Xiumin. “I just…” He shrugs.

“What?” Lu Han puts a hand on Xiumin’s shoulder and leans in close. “It’s not as if you don’t like women. I saw you checking out my girlfriend just now,” he says playfully.

Xiumin blushes. “Oh, you noticed.”

Lu Han nods.

*

How can he tell Lu Han that he is living a stolen life? That once his assignment is over (and who knew how long it would last), he would disappear without any warning? Lu Han, Minseok’s parents, Minseok’s aunt would never find out what happened to him. He doesn’t want to make it harder for anyone else…or for himself.

 

*

“Is this about Hyun?” Lu Han asks in a low voice. “Minseok, you need to get over her and move on with your life. I understand she was your first love but you’re not going to find your second love or third love if you refuse to meet anybody.”

Xiumin has to remember that Lu Han would know about Hyun. No doubt that Minseok would have written to him about his ex-girlfriend. “I know but it’s hard,” he says and sighs, seizing the chance to evade another blind set-up. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust someone after what happened with Hyun.” He sighs dramatically again for good measure.

Lu Han gives him a sympathetic smile. “Hang in there.”

Subin returns from the bathroom. “So can I give Soyeon the good news?” she asks, eyebrows raised in a hopeful gaze.

“Sorry,” says Xiumin and he means it. “I’m just not ready to meet anyone yet.”

She looks disappointed but not surprised. “It was worth a try.” She needlessly glances around the café, as if someone might overhear them, and whispers, “I also know a lot of really good-looking men if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“No,” Xiumin says a bit loudly. “I…appreciate the offer but I’m fine for now.”

She hitches her purse into the crook of her elbow. “Fine. But if you change your mind, just let Hannie know and I’ll set up everything.” She glances at the clock. “I have to run. You two have fun tonight playing video games or whatever it is you do when I’m not around.” She gives Lu Han another kiss before heading towards the door.

“I think I’m in love,” Lu Han confesses as the door swings shut.

Xiumin doesn’t reply to this declaration, having heard it many times before about different girls. “She’s a very nice young lady,” he says instead.

“Yeah.” Lu Han sighs. He absently waltzes back to the counter with a dreamy look on his face. 

Xiumin refrains from rolling his eyes. He stands up and drains the rest of his coffee which has cooled to room temperature.

“Are you leaving me too?” Lu Han asks, breaking out of his daze. “Don’t go to class. Stay here with me.”

Xiumin does roll his eyes this time. “I think you’ll be fine for a few hours by yourself. I’ll see you at home.” He leaves amidst Lu Han’s protests, stepping into the sunshine.

A girl giggles as she grabs her boyfriend’s hand. He smiles down at her. A couple walking in the opposite direction stop to take a picture together. A girl snakes an arm around another girl’s waist and pulls her close.

Everybody seems so happy.

Xiumin wonders if it’s too late...could he have that as well? Not just sex but the intangible benefits of a companion, someone he loved and trusted, bliss, joy, contentment, even heartbreak.

Would that ever be his?


	5. D.O

Story 5 – [D.O](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p62rfWxs6a8)

_D.O watched as Kai snapped at the others to quit goofing around and, “put this stuff away. We all have places to be.”_

_Like ice cream parlors. That was the reason D.O sat in the back row of the theater and waited for the stagehands to finish dismantling the scenery instead of escaping the un-airconditioned building. He sighed, counting the number of pieces that needed to be put away until Kai could join him._

_This was the final year he would be able to help with the local community theater annual spring production, having served as the main piano player for the past two years. They had just finished the final dress rehearsal and D.O felt a bit mournful and teary. ‘It was good while it lasted’ he told himself._

_“Looks like you’re ready for opening night,” an officious voice said from behind him._

_D.O jumped, the production’s sheet music spilling out of his lap. He bit his tongue to keep from swearing and looked over his shoulder._

_The man who had spoken looked out of the place in the slightly run-down theater with balding burgundy seats and stained floors. He wore a white shirt and crisp gray suit, hair nearly styled with product. A pair of expensive looking sunglasses hung from the front pocket of his jacket._

_“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said._

_“That’s okay.” D.O bent forward and picked up the fallen music. “Can I help you with something?”_

_“I hope so. My name is Kangta and I’m here from the Hera Institute.”_

_His irritation immediately faded. He stood up and turned, pushing his thick-framed glasses back up his nose, the glasses that, according to Kai, made him look like an old man and a little boy at the same time. “The Hera Institute?” he repeated, trying to keep his voice nonchalant._

_Kangta nodded. “I’ve been looking for you, D.O. I went to your home but nobody was there so I stopped by your school. One of your teachers said you might be at the community theater. I’m glad I caught you. Could I speak with you outside?”_

_“Um. Yes, I suppose.” D.O avoided looking toward the stage where he knew the others were watching him. He followed Kangta through the doors, into the lobby. “What did you want to speak with me about?” he asked, stopping just short of the exit._

_Kangta lifted his foot and the sticky linoleum floor made an attempt to hold on to the bottom of his leather shoe. “Is there some place more private we could speak?”_

_D.O tightened his grip on the sheet music. “I’d be more comfortable if we stayed out here.”_

_Kangta smiled. “You don’t believe I’m from the Hera Institute.”_

_“I didn’t say that,” said D.O. “But you’ve gone through an awful lot of trouble just to speak with a rejected applicant and all I have is your word that you are actually from the Hera Institute and not a pedophile or human trafficker or some other kind of scam artist so I think seeing some credentials are in order.”_

_Kangta stared at him for a long moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out an off-white business card. “Call my office. They’ll explain.”_

 

**THE HERA INSTITUTE OF SCIENTIFIC DEVELOPMENT AND RESEARCH**

**Kangta**

**North Wing, Sector 267-C**

**Recruitment Specialist**

**Tel: 010-9847-3849**

**kta@hisdr.org**

 

_Without taking his eyes off the person in question, D.O pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed the listed number._

_“Hera Institute Recruitment Office,” a stern voice answered._

_D.O took a moment to respond. “Hi…could I please speak with Specialist Kangta?”_

_“He’s currently out of the office. He’s been seconded by Artemis for a special recruiting assignment. May I ask who is calling?”_

_“Oh, um…wrong number.” D.O hung up, his entire body gone numb. He silently slid his phone back into his pocket. “I’m sorry for calling you a pedophile.”_

_“It’s quite alright,” said Kangta, sounding more amused than anything else. “You’re a skeptic and that’s not always a bad thing, especially at the Hera Institute. Now that you’re sure I’m not going to sell your organs on the black market, I’d like to speak with you about the Artemis Youth Program.”_

_D.O nodded, not trusting himself to speak._

_“As you heard, I’m currently working with the Youth Program to review previously un-admitted applicants to make sure we weren’t too hasty when we initially rejected them. While most of the candidates were not accepted for valid reasons, there were a few that deserved reconsideration.” He paused, seemingly waiting for a response._

_D.O obliged. “I see,” he whispered, mouth suddenly very dry._

_“You’re a smart young man,” Kangta continued. “Do you understand why I wanted to speak with you?”_

_He hesitated. “Yes, I think so.”_

_“Good. Of course, you’ll need to retake the exam and get another full physical. And we’ll also be doing another background check to make sure you haven’t gotten into any unsavory business since you last applied.”_

_D.O’s breath hardened into a lump and lodged itself in his throat._

_“It’s rare that second chances like these come along but I believe you will be an excellent addition to the Program.” He gestured to the small card still in D.O’s hand. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call. We’ll be in touch.”_

_D.O didn’t know what to say. “Thank you, sir.”_

 *

D.O takes the city train to work every day even though he could probably afford a car or a driver. He prefers the anonymity and ease of public transportation over sitting through stop-and-go rush hour traffic. Plus, the commute gives him a chance to indulge in his guilty pleasure: people watching.

He gets on the train and opts to stand, holding onto one of the overhead handles. A fast-paced dance track blasts into his ears from the headphones connected to a device in his pocket. The other commuters are absorbed in their own routine, most of whom D.O recognizes.

The business man who has a habit of wearing ugly ties leans against the door, even though they’re not supposed to, with his headphones in and eyes closed. The middle aged woman with the tightest perm in the world enjoys a sitcom on her phone. The old man next to her watches over her shoulder even though he can’t hear the dialogue. A teenage girl stands in the corner and rapidly taps her thumb across the screen of her phone, feet apart and planted to keep from falling every time the train stops at the next station.

Sitting a few feet from him is a new face. She’s around his age, dressed professionally, with a book in her hand rather than an electronic device. He squints at the title on the cover but doesn’t recognize it. She glances up at him and he looks away, pretending to be fascinated by a smudge on the wall. His hands move towards his face to steady a pair non-existent pair of glasses, a nervous habit from before his corrective vision surgery.  

When enough time as passed that D.O is positive that she’s forgotten all about him, he risks another look.

She seems to have been waiting for his attention and his eyes immediately meet hers.

She says something he can’t hear over the music.

He pulls out an earbud and asks, “Pardon?”

“You also work at the Institute,” she says, pointing at the keycard dangling from the lanyard around his neck. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a similar card with her picture and name.

Luna. Pretty name for a pretty girl.

The train lurches to a stop. The doors open. A few people get off but many more get on.

D.O bends awkwardly as an old woman crams herself between him and the other passengers.

Luna immediately stands up. “Take my seat, ma’am,” she says, grabbing the overhead handle next to D.O.

The old woman grunts a note of gratitude and plops down in the hard seat.

“I’ve never seen you before,” says Luna, “but, then again, the Institute is huge. You could work there for ten years and still not meet everyone in the same induction class. What building are you in?”

“East wing, Sector 302, Building D,” he answers. “You?”

“No wonder we’ve never met. I work across campus. West wing, Sector 561, Building H.”

She’s a chemist, he notes. Or at least works in the chemical sector.

“Do you normally take this train to work?” he asks, curiosity winning over his usual restraint.

“I take the red line but there’s been an accident on the tracks. With the delay, I figured I’d take the yellow line.” She glances over her shoulder. “So,” she says quietly and D.O has to lean in to hear her. “What goes on in Building D?”

D.O blinks innocently. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on. Everybody knows about Sector 302-D. You’re the most secretive department in the entire Institute. Rumor is you have a swimming pool and racquet ball court.”

He’s surprised by his own laughter, something he normally doesn’t share with strangers. “I’m afraid that is classified information.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Her eyes twinkle with good humor.

The train stops. Doors open. D.O and Luna shuffle out of the compartment. They fall into a slightly awkward silence as they take the escalators up to ground level and walk the short distance from the station to the gated East entrance of the Institute where the full official title greets them in bronze letters.

THE HERA INSTITUTE OF SCIENTIFIC DEVELOPMENT AND RESEARCH

The largest private research center in the country.

 D.O pauses a moment before they part ways. “Guess I’ll see you around,” he says.

Luna gestures toward the enormous campus; a little over one hundred acres of land, four wings, 600 buildings of varied sizes plus 200 labs, 28 thousand employees. “That’d be quite the coincidence.”

“Or fate,” he says and wonders how long it would take her to cross the campus. Even though they had entered the gate closest to his building, he still needs to ride six minutes on the intra-compound rail or walk 17 minutes.

She tilts her head and smiles, eyes raking over him as if seeing him anew. “Okay. If we run into each other again, it’ll be a fate. A sign.” She turns with a little wave. “Bye D.O.”   

 He watches her walk away. “A sign for what?” he mutters to himself. Shrugging, he makes his way toward the rail where he just manages to squeeze in before the doors close.

The weather has started to cool down and the trees are showing the earliest hints of red and yellow. D.O likes the campus best in autumn, when the leaves blanket the ground and even the most serious scientists can be seen kicking up colorful piles of fallen foliage.

The rail stops. The overhead display blinks ‘302’ in red. D.O gets off.

He makes his way to one of the smaller buildings, made of white brick, not glass like most of the others. The entrance is inconspicuous; a heavy wooden door. He scans his card on the security reader and pushes through.

“Good morning sir,” the girl at the front desk greets.

“Good morning Lizzy,” he returns and gives her the friendly version of his smile. He continues walking until he comes to an elevator toward the back of the building. He holds his finger down on the button while a light reads his print. The doors open and D.O steps inside. The doors close.

A few seconds pass before a pleasant automated voice announces, “Good morning, Agent D.O.”

“Morning,” he replies.

The elevator starts its descent without pressing any buttons since there is only one possible destination.

Coming to a stop with a gentle thud, the doors finally open and D.O steps out into a rather quiet office space. A few people, fellow early risers, chat over coffee. It’s the calm before the daily storm of phone calls, requests for information, relaying of instructions, discussions of matters not important enough to warrant the use of a private meeting room.

D.O hates the layout of the office:  a grid of cubicles with low walls for most workers while the higher-ups enjoy rooms with mahogany furniture and doors. Management insists the open arrangement encourages communication and teamwork but D.O doesn’t understand how it breeds anything but annoyance and contempt.

A tall, skinny young man intercepts him before he gets to his cube. “You’re late.”

“Shut up, Kris,” D.O says mildly. He checks his watch. “I’m 23 minutes early, asshole.”

“That’s still two minutes late for you.” Kris smiles and walks him to his desk. “How’s that report coming?”

“You’ll get it before it’s due, don’t worry,” says D.O, turning on his computer.

“I know that. I just wanted to see if you were having any trouble.” He clears his throat. “Tao is making one of his visits today. I was wondering if you wanted to see him, maybe ask him a few questions since…you know…”

“I wasn’t aware that he had been reinstated for duty,” says D.O, hands flying across the keyboard as he logs in. “I thought they decommissioned handlers who lose their targets.”

“The target tried to escape and Tao killed him. Technically, he followed protocol but he didn’t bring back the body so he just received a temporary suspension.” Kris shrugs. “Plus, it wouldn’t be in the Institute’s best interest to decommission Tao. He’s the best they’ve got.”

“Yeah, because he’s batshit – ” D.O pauses, “ – unique.”

Kris laughs. “You’ll have to learn to get along with him. He’s all you have once you’re over there.”

“We get along just fine.”

It’s not a lie. They’re always civil even though neither is too familiar with the other. D.O knows they are the same age but Tao had been one of the youngest recruits at age eleven while D.O had been much older when he was accepted into the Artemis Youth Program.

“What I mean is, you’ll have to learn to trust him,” Kris corrects himself. “Come on. You can go with me to welcome him back. The report can wait.”

“So you say now,” says D.O, reluctantly getting out of his seat. “If the director gets pissed, I’m telling him it’s your fault.”

“Fine, fine.” Kris looks at his watch. “Come on. If we don’t get there early enough, they won’t let us watch. You’ve never actually seen anybody cross, have you?”

D.O doesn’t answer.

A different elevator from the one they use to get to the office takes them back up to ground level. The lobby has started to fill up with men and women in business formal ware, socializing before having to slave away at desks or sit in on boring meetings. When the elevator door opens and Kris and D.O emerge, everyone stops moving for a brief moment.

In Sector 302-D, the physical hierarchy runs counter to the structural one. On the third floor, a team of clerical and administrative assistants does the shit work for the various departments in the building. The second floor consists of corporate management sub-branches, unique to Building D because of the secret nature of their work: accountants, technical support, even HR.

Engineers occupy the ground level. Since Sector 302 is dedicated to aerospace research, that is the field of concentration for most of the Building’s engineers although they have a few computer and electrical engineers to keep the machines running smoothly.

Those that work below ground, like D.O and Kris, are the elite of Building D. Sworn to secrecy that carries a heavy penalty in the case they break their oath, and possessing the highest level of security clearance possible, they are the subject of many rumors and conspiracies but also admiration and envy.

The crowd parts a bit as Kris strides toward the door. D.O trails behind him, amused by the expressions of fear and intrigue his menacing-looking colleague receives.

As soon as they are safely outside, D.O says, “I wonder what everyone would think if they knew you burst into tears every time that Mother’s Day commercial about the real estate agent plays on television.”

Kris shrugs in an attempt to appear indifferent but D.O sees the tip of ears turn red. “They’d probably think that I love my mother which is true. My mother and I are very close.”

They board the rail and ride towards the Center, aptly named since it is where all four wings of the compound intersect, and a twenty minute trip from Sector 302. Most of the employees are already in their respective buildings so they have the entire compartment to themselves.

“Are you nervous about going?” Kris asks.

D.O looks out the compartment window. Moving at this speed, he can’t see the autumn tinged of the leaves. Everything rushes by as a green blur. “Of course I am,” he replies. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“I almost was.” Kris closes his mouth as the rail stops and three young researchers get on. Immunologists by the look of their lab coats.

By the time they get off five stations later, the words are threatening to break out of D.O’s mouth like a cough. “Why did you stay?” D.O inquires before anybody else has a chance to interrupt.

“I didn’t have a choice. They said they didn’t need me to go. Something happened I suppose.”

The Center grows larger and larger.

D.O knows he should stop asking questions but he doesn’t. “Who were you supposed to be?”

The rail eases to a stop and Kris smiles apologetically. “Sorry, we’re out of time.” He steps out.

D.O trudges after him, disappointed. They both scan their keycards to get into the Center and Kris takes the lead, guiding D.O towards a door. The sign above them warns that only authorized personnel will be allowed entry. There is a kiosk on either side of the door that reads their prints.

The door releases a mechanical sigh as it slides open to reveal a long, completely white corridor leading to a blank wall. D.O hesitates. “Are you sure this is right way?”

“Of course,” Kris says confidently. “Come on.”

The door closes behind them and for a moment, D.O twitches, startled.

Kris puts a large, reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Relax,” he whispers even though there is nobody around to bother with their conversation.  

D.O winces at the sound their steps make on the floor which is so clean that he can see their reflections staring up at them. He glances around for cameras and asks one last question. “Do you regret not being able to go?”

“I was just doing my job,” Kris replies.

D.O is about to point out that he did not answer the question but they reach the end of the corridor. The wall opens to reveal a set of steep escalators, one descending and the other ascending from the bottom. A slanted ceiling conceals their destination but he hears voices. He makes Kris get on the escalator first.

“Is this the first time you’re seeing the top of my head?” Kris teases and D.O considers pushing him down the moving steps.

They arrive at the bottom and D.O forgets to be annoyed with his taller colleague.

The room is large; impressively enough that he wonders how the Center manages to hide it. Men and women in white lab coats scurry back and forth between machines, shouting out power levels and fiddling with knobs and buttons. They glance at the two new arrivals but don’t tell them to leave.

D.O points out six upright poles in the middle of the commotion. “What’s that for?”

“You’ll see,” says Kris.

Someone shouts, “Incoming!” and the chaos intensifies.

A different voice, female, begins to countdown. “Ten, nine, eight – ”

The air shifts, fuller, thicker somehow. A film of cold sweat appears on the back of D.O’s neck.  

“Four, three, two – ”.

Everything, including the hum of the machines, stops for less than a moment.

A strangled yell echoes off the high ceiling and in a burst of intense white light, a young man appears in the center of the six poles.

D.O feels his stomach coil, threatening to implode. He’s heard about the process, visualized it in his head like a scene out of a science fiction film. He imagined there would be orchestral music or a dramatic close-up shot of Tao’s face when he crossed but even without the effects, it still feels like a hallucination.

Tao stumbles sideways, the weight of the backpack he wears nearly pulling him down, but he manages to stay on his feet. He laughs and high-fives the first person to rush towards him: a haggard looking doctor. “Good job, everyone,” says Tao. “Thank you for not losing me in the void between universes. I appreciate that.”

His tone is light but D.O’s gut wrenches a little bit more at his words and their implication.

Tao fights his way past the circle of lab coats surrounding him. “Kris!” he calls and rushes towards them. “How have you been? Thanks for coming to see me.”

“Oh, were you coming back today? I had no idea,” Kris replies as Tao pulls him into a hug. The engineers and scientists hold back, irritated but ultimately amused and touched by the reunion.

“Who is this...hey, D.O! Thanks for coming out, too.” Tao moves on and embraces the tense young man.

“Er – yeah, sure. No problem.” D.O untangles himself from the enthusiastic limbs and straightens his jacket. “How was the, um…trip?”

Tao shrugs. “Fine, I guess. It was over like that.” He snaps his fingers. “And I don’t get queasy anymore.”

“Oh. That’s good,” D.O says faintly.

Tao eases the backpack off his shoulders and hands it off to one of the scientists. “Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“We’ll get you caught up on all the gossip over lunch,” says Kris. “D.O and I will take you somewhere nice if you promise to behave during your medical check-up.”

“How nice?”

“I was thinking somewhere on Twelfth Avenue. What do you think, D.O?”

Twelfth Avenue lunches range from expensive to symbolic robbery but D.O figures if Kris is the one suggesting it, he will foot the bill or find a way for the Institute to pay. “Sounds good to me.”

Tao brightens. “Okay. Don’t forget you promised.” He looks over his shoulder as the doctor leads him away. “You promised!”

Kris raises a hand in acknowledgement and watches the doctor coax him through a door across the room. He turns to D.O with an uncharacteristic look of anxiety. “Are you okay? Did I make you more nervous by showing you?”

D.O shrugs a shoulder. “It’s not as bad as I imagined it to be.”

While the scientists and engineers continue to follow-up and work on machine maintenance, they take the ascending escalator. The wall opens and they are back in the sterile white corridor.

“I think…” D.O feels the need to reassure his colleague. “…I think it’ll be okay.” He glances up. “What about you? Are you ready?”

“Of course,” says Kris, blithe as ever.

They reenter the busy Center and D.O winces at the sudden increase in chatter and noise. Nobody else is aware of the fact that other universes exist, much less that under their feet, somebody just crossed from one to another.

They pass the front desk where the receptionist calmly fields multiple incoming phone calls while handing a slip of paper to a nervous young man.

Kris stops and taps him on the shoulder. “Excuse me but does your director know where you are?”

The young man jumps and turns, half of an apology already stumbling out of his mouth, but upon seeing Kris, he merely scowls. “You jerk. You scared the shit out of me.”

D.O recognizes the perpetually sleepy expression and dark skin.

 _Bedroom eyes and sun-kissed glow_ , back when he was more generous and had less to lose.

They step away from the front desk and continue to chat. He looks happy and at ease, oblivious to D.O’s immense discomfort.

It takes every bit of strength he possesses not bolt out of the building, especially when his defenses are so worn from what he witnessed down below.

“Oh, by the way, Kai, D.O, do you two know each other?” Kris asks.

Kai pulls back those lips into a small smile.

White noise fills his head.

Kai doesn’t tell the whole truth.

“Come on, Kris,” he says instead. “You’ve introduces us twice? Maybe three times?”

“Four,” D.O interjects thoughtlessly.

Kai looks wide awake as his deep brown eyes pierce D.O’s startled ones.

He looks away and the white noise escalates to dizzying levels.

“Oh right. I guess I forgot.” Kris smiles apologetically. “So are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

Kai nods. “I just submitted my transfer request.” He suddenly sighs, looking forlorn.

“Cheer up.” Kris punches him lightly on the shoulder. “You’ve paid your dues in the Kinesiology sector. You’re kind of famous at the Institute for lasting as long as you did under Director Jaewon.”

“Yeah, I suppose. I mean, I understand that the man is a genius but he’s just…” Kai trails off.

Kris nods understandingly. “He’s utterly insane.”

Kai throws back his head and laughs. A sound of unrestrained joy.

D.O hates him.

 “Hey, we’re going to lunch on Twelfth Avenue if you want to join,” Kris offers. “I’ll be putting it on the Institute’s tab so we can even order appetizers.”

He tries not to look too relieved when Kai shakes his head.

“I’m swamped right now,” he explains. “I can’t slack off on the chance that the transfer doesn’t work out and I’m stuck with Director Jaewon forever.”

Kris looks sympathetic. “It will all work out, okay? I’ll see you back at the house.”

*

_D.O quickly shoved the card into his pocket when he heard the stagehand volunteers come into the lobby. He looked down, ignoring their stares and whispers._

_Kai was the last to leave the theater. He shuffled apprehensively towards D.O, shoulders slouched and hands in his pocket. “Who was that guy?” he asked._

_“Oh, he wanted to know how to get to the bank,” said D.O, sliding the sheet music into his bag._

_“But there’s no bank around here.”_

_“I know. I told him he’d have to take 35 th Street all the way down to the bridge and he didn’t seem too happy. I guess some people don’t have a sense of direction.” He noticed the doubtful look on Kai’s face. “Hey, come on. Let’s get ice cream. I’d kill someone for a chocolate cone.”_

_He reached out and lightly touched the back of Kai’s wrist._

_The stagehand dropped his suspicions and smiled. “Okay. Thanks for waiting.” His head swiveled as he looked around the empty lobby. “Before we go, I want to show you something.”_

_D.O wasn’t sure if he could handle another surprise but he didn’t want to give Kai any more reasons to be suspicious. He followed him toward the North Hall where they housed the incompetent administration office of the theater amongst other rooms._

_“In here,” said Kai, opening a door heavy wooden door._

_D.O frowned but before he could protest, Kai pushed him inside. The door swung closed and the dingy light bulb above them flickered to life._

_“You wanted to show me the cleaning supply closet?” D.O asked, looking around. “As far as closets go, I’ve seen better ones.”_

_Kai laughed. “You’re an idiot,” he said as his smile faded. He plucked D.O’s glasses off his face and leaned forward._

_D.O felt the first spark of panic begin to build in his gut. But he didn’t turn away as Kai kissed him, slow and gentle. He parted his lips to catch his breath but the taller boy used that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue darting forward._

_The card in D.O’s pocket crinkled as he swayed and he remembered that what they were doing fell outside the boundary of practices that the law and society deemed appropriate, and into “unsavory business” territory._

_He squeaked and broke away. His hands scrabbled for his glasses and he shoved them back on his face which burned furiously. He turned, wiping his mouth._

_“I-I’m sorry,” Kai stuttered. “D.O, I’m sorry. Did…did I take it too far?”_

_D.O remained silent. The guilt washed over him in waves and waves. In between each surge, his skin prickled with confusion and shame. But also with more excitement and exhilaration than the first time they had kissed a few weeks prior. The panic morphed into a flurry of clashing sensations and he lifted his head to meet the other’s gaze._

_“Please.” Kai’s voice wavered on the edge of desperation. “Say something.”_

_Even under the grimy light, Kai looked like a miracle with his heavy-lidded eyes and impossible mouth. He could be friends with anyone he wanted, kiss whoever he fancied. D.O had pretended not to notice the attempts of Yoona, the female lead and prettiest girl in the city, to capture Kai’s attention. But here he was in a supply closet with a short, skinny boy who wore old man/little boy glasses, and close to tears._

_D.O took a deep breath. “I don’t think we should get ice cream today.”_

_Kai reached out a hand but thought better of it and pulled back. “Look, I’m sorry. I – ”_

_“My parents aren’t home,” D.O interrupted and he continued before he could lose his nerve. “Would you like to come over?”_

_He used to always have a plan but ever since he was rejected from Artemis and became friends with Kai, the urge to always know exactly where he was going, what he was going to do, had diminished._

_That kind of abandon scared him and he knew that if things worked out with the Hera Institute, he would rather have the stability they offered._

_But for the warmth and weight of Kai’s embrace, the identical beat of their pounding hearts, he could be reckless one last time._


	6. SUHO

Story 6 - [Suho](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFypWI6w5-8)

 

Kai greets him at the front door. “I’m hungry,” he whines as Suho pushes past him. “Hey! I said I’m hungry! Where are mom and dad?”

Suho ignores him and heads straight to his younger brother’s room. In the closet, hidden behind the clothes swinging neatly from plastic hangers, is a backpack with a few outfits and an unopened toothbrush. He shoves the backpack into Kai’s arms. “Put on your shoes,” he orders. “We’re leaving in less than five minutes.”

Kai follows Suho down the hall. “What’s going on?” he demands. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to visit Uncle Andy,” Suho replies, fighting to sound calm. “Now go put on your shoes. Your sneakers, not the ones for school.” He turns into his own bedroom and drops to his knees. Under the bed, he finds what he’s looking for: a duffle bag with spare clothes and a wad of cash hidden in one of the compartments.

Suho stands up and sees Kai standing in his doorway, still shoe-less and the backpack clutched loosely in his hands.

“Why are we going to visit Uncle Andy? It’s a Wednesday. We have school tomorrow.”

“I’ll explain on the way but we need to leave NOW.” He grabs Kai by the upper arm and drags him through the hall.

Kai yelps and tries to twist free but at twelve years old, he’s not a match for his older brother. “Let go of me, you monkey! You…you big, smelly – ”

Suho pulls hard and spins so that his younger brother’s back slams hard into his chest. He presses a hand over Kai’s mouth and hisses, “Listen very carefully.”

Kai shrieks against his palm and squirms.

Suho tightens his grip. “We don’t know where mom and dad are which means big trouble. We need to leave because people will be trying to find us too and I don’t know what they’re going to do if that happens.”

He senses the resistance drain out of Kai. Trembling and quiet whimpers replace his defiant behavior.

“I’m sorry,” Suho whispers, stomach turning with guilt, and relaxes his hold the slightest bit. “I didn’t want to scare you. I promise that you’ll be safe. I’m going to take care of us. But I need you to listen to me and do as I say. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Kai nods.

“Okay, good.” Suho releases him. “We’ll have to travel light but pack anything else essential. I have to do one more thing.”

He watches Kai sprint towards the kitchen before returning his attention to the task at hand. His heart thunders wildly as he marches towards the master bedroom their parents share. He pauses in the doorway and looks around before stepping over the threshold.  

He’s only fourteen years old, too young for all of this. But Kai is even younger and needs him now so he resists the urge to fling himself onto the worn comforter covering his parents’ bed.

As his mother had instructed, he opens the top left drawer of the antique dresser and pries off the back to reveal a hidden compartment. He reaches inside and pulls out a piece of paper folded into fourths. The paper is old, the edges dark with dirt and age. Suho puts it in his pocket, grabs the duffel bag, and makes his way to the kitchen.

Kai is tying the laces of his worn-in sneakers, the backpack slung over his shoulder. He looks remarkably calm for a boy who had just been informed that his parents are missing and themselves need to flee.

“We’re going out the side door,” says Suho, slipping on his own shoes. “Are you ready?”

Kai looks around the kitchen one last time. “Are we coming back?”

Suho wants to lie and tell him that they would be back soon, to their old house and old lives. But Kai is too smart to believe that and hates when people lie to him. “No,” Suho answers. "We won't be back."

 

*

 

It’s midnight by the time Kai, who had been obedient since they left their home, starts to fuss. “I’m still hungry,” he complains.

Suho realizes neither of them has eaten in twelve hours and knows that Kai becomes exceptionally cranky when starved so he looks around the bus terminal. Even for a suburban station, it’s quite small. Most of the shops have closed up for the night except for a tiny convenience store. While it’s not real food, they probably sell something to tide them over

He gestures toward the store. Kai doesn’t disagree and shrugs. 

“I’m tired and I want to sit down. Will you get something for both of us?” Kai asks while creeping towards an empty bench.

Suho wants to remind him that they’ve been sitting for hours on a bus. But seeing the way his brother slouches with fatigue, he lets it go and nods. “Don’t go anywhere,” he instructs before heading to the convenience store.

The cashier is an elderly man who looks up when Suho enters. He makes no attempt to hide his scrutinizing gaze. “You kids are out pretty late for a school night,” he comments.

“We’re on our way back from our supplemental lessons in the city,” Suho deceives with an easy smile. He picks up a few pre-packaged sandwiches from the deli display and sets them on the counter.

The cashier scans the barcode. “That will be 6,000 won young man,” he says, putting the food into a plastic bag.

Suho hands him the money, tries not to marvel at how much cheaper things are outside of the city, and takes his change. He thanks the cashier and peeks into the bag as he walks out, feeling hungry for the first time in hours. Eager to show his purchases, he looks up.

And Suho thinks he must be imagining the empty bench because Kai couldn’t have disappeared. His brain is just playing tricks on him because of the stress and hunger and lack of sleep. But no matter how many times he blinks, the bench remains unoccupied.

Panic steals his voice and he can’t even call out his brother’s name as he looks around the fairly empty station. Besides the young woman working behind the ticket counter and a few middle aged men loitering near the entrance, they have the place to themselves.

Just before he starts to recovers his ability to shout, he sees a familiar mop of hair round the corner from the restrooms. A relief so strong that it borders on fury rushes through his system.

“I’m sorry,” Kai says immediately. He holds up his hands which are still wet. “Please, Suho, I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold it any longer.”

Suho wants to scream, grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and ask what the hell he was thinking. But he sees the way Kai clamps his teeth into his trembling bottom lip. Some children cry in order to elicit sympathy but his brother isn’t capable of such manipulative behavior. So he takes his anger and crams it down as far as it will go.

“Come on,” he says and sets the bag on their bench. He pulls out a sandwich, turkey with cheddar cheese, and holds it out.

Kai wipes the excess water on his pants. “Thanks,” he murmurs. He quickly peels the cellophane and takes a bite. “Did you get anything to drink?” he asks through a mouthful of bread and turkey.

Suho pauses. No, he hadn’t. He sighs and puts his own meal on hold. “Come on,” he says and pulls Kai toward the convenience store. He refuses to let his little brother out of his sight again.

The cashier looks surprised as they enter. “Were the sandwiches not to your liking?” he asks.

“The sandwiches were fine. We’re just a little thirsty.” Suho takes two soft drinks and a few water bottles for the road. He tries not to knock anything over as he sets his armful of refreshments on the counter.

Kai slinks up next to him and slides something toward the drinks. Suho glances down and sees the candy bar. Too tired, too hungry, and too thirsty to argue, he simply pays for it all.

He takes the plastic bag with their drinks and hands the candy bar to Kai who had finished his sandwich and is ready for dessert. They step out of the store and Suho immediately notices the sudden increase of bus terminal patrons.

Kai, oblivious to any change, unwraps his candy bar. “You want half?” he asks Suho.   

Something isn’t right. No bus had pulled up while they were in the store so they couldn’t be new arrivals. And in a town this size, everybody knows that after 10 pm, the buses only run once an hour until 3 in the morning, the regular schedule not to start again until 5 AM. There is no reason for this many people to be in the station at 15 minutes past midnight.

“Come on,” he mutters, putting a hand on Kai’s shoulder, and pushes him forward. “Let’s go.”

“But we just got here.” Kai points at the sandwich on the bench. “What about your food?”

“Not hungry.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the man by the back exit and the one under the posted bus schedule follow them. The young man pretending to check the time on his phone and the woman with him also begin to move.

Kai remains unaware of their situation. “Is someone coming to pick us up?”

They’re almost to the main doors. Suho wants to melt with relief –

A policeman appears in their path. He puffs out his chest and looks down at them. “Do your parents know that you’re out this late?” he asks.

Suho opens his mouth to explain.

“Officer, they’re with us.”

He whips his head around to see who had spoken. His eyes dart back and forth between the man with the phone and the man in a rumpled suit. Altogether, seven people form a semi-circle around Suho and Kai, blocking any way to escape except through the policeman.

The woman steps forward and flashes a badge. Military Intelligence Branch. Sergeant Shoo. 

“Suho, what’s going on?” Kai whispers. “Who are these people?” He shrinks and tucks himself into his brother’s side.

“Just stay cool,” Suho mumbles out of the corner of his mouth.

“These young men possess information that is vital to national security and we need to bring them in for questioning,” she says, voice compassionate as an automated machine. “We appreciate your cooperation.” She looks at them, face absolutely unreadable. “Boys, please come with us.”

“You must be mistaken,” says Suho, composing a look of confusion. “We don’t know anything…about anything.”

Sergeant Shoo stares at him for a second before turning and nodding curtly at the others.   

One of the men – the one in a green tracksuit – steps forward and makes a grab for Kai.

Suho, more out of instinct than anything else, pushes the man away by hitting him in the face with a closed fist. “Don’t you touch him,” he warns.

The man reels back in surprise. Drops of blood stain the green jacket. He curses and pinches the bridge of his nose. He turns to his colleagues. “Take care of the younger one first.”

Kai gasps and wraps his arms around Suho’s waist but against so many, they easily tear him away. “Let go! Let go of me! Get off me!” he shouts, kicking his feet. 

Suho desperately lunges forward but Sergeant Shoo steps in front of him and he hesitates long enough for her to dig her fingers into the soft flesh of his neck, hitting a nerve. He cries out while his knees collapse beneath him. 

“You’re just a couple of kids and we don’t want to hurt you but we won’t have a choice if you make things difficult,” she says.

“Please.” Suho sees the convenience store owner quickly pull down the gate over the entrance and the ticket girl had disappeared. “Please. We really don’t know anything.”

“Then come with us,” the man he had just punched speaks up.  He doesn’t look as menacing as the others, despite the smear of blood under his nose. “Nobody is going to hurt you or your brother.”

Suho looks past him, to Kai who hasn’t given up his struggle against those holding him back. His face is pink from exertion and fringe sticks to his forehead with sweat. Seven soldiers against two boys.

Both of them won't be able to get away. Suho knows this. It tears him apart from the inside-out but he knows so he gives up. It wouldn't be worth escaping on his own.

“Okay,” he says, choking on the resignation in his voice. He looks up. “Okay.”

 

*

 

Three days.

That’s how long Suho has been wearing the beige jumpsuit which is a size too large and lace-less, slip-on shoes.

For three days, Suho has been sitting on his tiny bed, caged in by iron bars, while Sergeant Shoo’s parting words play over and over again in his head.

_“Your parents died in car accident. That’s why they never called with the ‘clear’ signal which we know about. Somebody will come to sort you out.”_

It almost sinks in.

Three days pass and Suho still has no idea what happened to Kai, if he is in the same base or if he had been whisked to another site.

The large steal door to the holding area opens, interrupting his thoughts, and a man, obviously not a soldier from the way he is dressed, enters. He has a pass of some kind clipped to his shirt pocket.

Suho stands up slowly. He presumes the man is here to see him since the cells on either side of his remain unoccupied. Perhaps he is a lawyer sent to inform Suho of his charges which no doubt include treason and conspiracy.

The man approaches and Suho glances at the badge. He’s not a lawyer.  

Guest Pass: Kangta from the Hera Institute.

He stops just a few feet from the iron rods separating them. “Hello, Suho. My name is Kangta. I’m from the Hera Institute,” he says, not revealing anything the teenager didn’t already know. “Have you heard of us?” 

“Yes,” Suho says quietly, voice rusty from disuse.

“Good.” Kangta gives him a solemn nod. “I’d like to speak to you about Artemis. I’m not sure if you’re aware but we have a specially designed program for boys and girls around your age.”

Suho knows about Artemis. He's seen the pamphlets. Everybody knows about it.

For the brightest and most capable young people.

Extremely competitive.

The Hera Institute’s brainwashing, funnel program into its own sanctimonious bullshit.  

“Where is my brother?” he asks instead of responding, although he’s certain that non-military personnel wouldn’t know.

To his surprise, Kangta answers, “Kai is currently at a state-funded orphanage. He’s been there for the past two days.”

The intensity of the relief Suho feels forces him to sit back down. He nods and nods again, despite the awareness that government orphanages lack the adequate funding and staff to function effectively. At least Kai is not in a cell, absolutely alone for 22 hours of the day.

“I’m a recruitment specialist with the Institute,” Kangta continues. “And we believe that you would be a good fit for the program.”

Suho raises an eyebrow. “Me?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“But you would,” Kangta insists gently, as if the reason for Suho’s doubts are a matter of confidence, not contempt for the program and Institute itself. “Your grades are excellent, you’re obviously clever…your parents trained you well. It would be a shame to let that kind of talent rot away in a reformation camp.”

Suho detects the veiled threat. “Tell me,” he says, hiding the terror churning in his stomach. “How does a supposedly private company like the Hera Institute have the ability to overturn a prison sentence?”

Kangta looks at him with a vague smile before changing the subject. “If you agree to join the program, you will become a ward of the Institute. Your brother will be taken out of the orphanage and adopted into a loving, middle-class family. We’ll even let you meet the prospective parents to help ease your mind.”

 

 

The death of his parents hits him like an injection of anesthesia. The agony and sorrow so acute that he almost feels normal except for the shortness of breath and cloudy vision. He tries to stand up but fails and remains seated on his bed.

His mother: clever, strong-willed, and beautiful. He frantically tries to remember her last words to him but all that comes to mind is her instruction to make sure he calls in for the ‘clear.’

They had gotten home late the night before they died, coming back from the gallery opening of one of his father’s former students. He recalls his father’s kind eyes watching him from the hallway as his mother whispered the reminder in his ear.

He had shrugged her off, irritated that they thought he would forget. Why did he do that? He wants to pretend that he had simply accepted their concern and kissed her goodnight.  

 

 

“What happens if I refuse?” Suho asks, clinging to a modicum of defiance.

Kangta leans forward as if letting him in on some confidential information. “We can just as easily claim that we found the paper with the list of names in your brother’s belongings. They might go easy on him because of his age but no doubt he’ll have a hard life as an ex-con when he gets out.”

Suho searches the other man’s face for a hint, a twitch, any indication that they wouldn’t dare frame a completely innocent child of such a serious crime. His blood turns cold as he finds nothing but apathy.

“What do you say?” Kangta asks.

“Do I really have a choice?” Suho snaps petulantly.

Something resembling bewilderment flickers across the man’s face.  “No, I suppose not.”

 

*

 

Suho frowns: a massively downplayed reaction to the photos found leaning against his door this morning.

The first photo is innocent enough. Nothing incriminating about sleeping on his own couch while a friend takes off his shoes.

Except the other man in the photos is not a friend. He is the cab driver who he paid to get him home from the bar last week.

His head spins as he tries to piece together what happened that night. He remembers that the marketing department went out to celebrate the completion of their first Chinese CF.

He went to the bar to order a drink…a whisky and Coke, he believes…and there was a pretty girl.

Yes, he remembers the girl sitting by herself with a glass of white wine. Hopped up on the success of their shooting, he started a conversation with her. He introduced himself as Joonmyeon. She said her name was Hyoyeon. He invited her to come drink with them at their table.

The next fragment of memory that he can recall with any confidence is the bit where his co-workers drag him outside and put him into a cab.

He doesn’t understand how he became so drunk after only two beers. While his drinking abilities are not outstanding, neither is he a lightweight. 

The cab driver, a crotchety old man, drove a little over a block before a car rammed into his back end. Suho remembers flying forward and smacking his face against the driver-side’s headrest.

The old man cursed and got out of the car. He began yelling at the perpetrators, his voice scratchy and gruff from years of smoking.

Suho felt dizzy and awkwardly groped the door. His fingers found the plastic handle and when he pulled, he tumbled onto the asphalt.

“AND YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST NOT KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD WHILE DRIVING. THEY SHOULD TAKE YOUR LICENSE AWAY – “

“OH PLEASE, LIKE YOU’RE NOT WATCHING YOUR LITTLE TV AS YOU DRIVE. HOW DARE YOU – ”   

Suho managed to stand up despite the spinning. He put a hand on the roof of the cab to steady himself. He looked around; trying to remember which direction was home.

Another cab slowed and pulled over next to the scene of the collision. The passenger window squealed as it rolled down and a friendly voice asked, “Need a ride?”

Suho wondered if he should stay, if the cab driver would require him to make a statement of some kind. But he needed to drink some water and he needed to pee and he needed to sleep. So he wrenched open the door and staggered into the back seat, mumbling his address.

He must have fallen asleep in the cab because he jolted awake as they passed over a speed bump to the entrance of his apartment complex.

He slowly closed his eyes and when they opened, he was complete deadweight, propped up by a stranger, and waiting for an elevator. 

“Almost there,” he said and Suho recognized his voice as the cab driver.

Under the florescent light, Suho got his first proper look at the young man who scooped him up from the side of the road. Handsome in the boy-next-door kind of way with a square jaw, and thick, friendly eyebrows. The faint look of amusement he wore suited his features.

Too drowsy to hold up his head, he let it fall forward and closed his eyes again. He doesn’t remember the elevator ride or punching in the code to get in his apartment but it must have happened because when he opened his eyes, he was staring at the ceiling of his living room while soft kisses tingled on his throat.

Suho blames the alcohol for his delayed reaction because by the time he realized what was happening, his shirt had been pulled off, the leather of the couch hot against his skin, and belt unhooked, unfamiliar fingers playing with the waistband of his boxers. “S-stop,” he stammered and feebly pushed away the figure on top of him.

He was terrified to realize how difficult the simple action felt to perform.

The cab driver loomed above him, legs on either side of Suho’s lap, effectively trapping him. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice filled with what sounded like genuine concern.

“Yes-no-I just…” He felt sick but not the normal kind of drunk sick. He felt feverish and weak. “…I need water. Please.”

The cab driver rolled back onto his heels and hopped off the couch. “Hold on. I’ll be right back.”

But Suho didn’t ‘hold on.’ As soon as he heard the driver rummaging around his kitchen, he sat up and carefully placed his feet on the floor which suddenly felt slanted. He looked around for his shirt and saw it had been tossed across the living room, beyond his ability to retrieve it.

The cab driver came back with a glass of cloudy tap water.

Suho flinched as the seat next to him dipped with the weight of his unwanted guest. He was entirely too aware that in his condition, he couldn’t fight off a kitten, much less a grown man. Taking the glass, he tried to bring it to his mouth but his hands shook violently, splashing water over the rim.

“Here.” The cab driver gently pulled the cup away and held it steady to Suho’s lips. “Go on.”

Suho gulped the water down, feeling grateful until he remembered that just a few minutes ago, this stranger had his hands down the front of pants. He turned his head, mid-drink, and coughed. A quiet anger rose inside of him but he didn’t make a scene, not wanting to provoke the driver.

“Um, how much…” he started. A sudden onset of vertigo severed his train of thought. His eyes slid out of focus before closing. He desperately clung to consciousness but even the voices in his head fell silent.

He woke up the next morning, laid across his couch with his shirt draped over his chest like a tiny blanket. He tried to summon the events of the previous night and upon remembering the cab driver and his wandering hands, bolted upright.

“Shit,” he whispered and patted his private parts. Nothing felt out of the ordinary although considering how drunk he was, it brought him little comfort.

Suho put his head in his hands and tried to swallow but his tongue latched on to the roof of his mouth from the lack of moisture. His stomach clenched and he ran to the bathroom. He immediately threw up into the toilet.

He slid to the floor, temples throbbing and vowing never to drink again.

Suho hadn’t completely forgotten about the cab driver. Over the next week, when he least expected it, the sensation of his stubble against Suho’s cheek resurfaced and he shuddered. His co-workers would ask if he was cold. But mostly, Suho lived his life as normal.

Until he found the pictures in a manila envelope outside his door.

The pictures aren’t exactly pornographic. In fact, without context they seem downright romantic. Suho concludes that after he passed out for the final time, the cab driver left without trying anything further.

But that doesn't make them any less compromising. In the last picture of the series, Suho’s hand is resting on the driver’s lower back in what appears to be a reciprocal manner although he has no memory of doing such a thing. Joonmyeon’s father would disown him if the pictures become public.

He hears the beeps of the passcode being punched in. He hastily shoves the pictures beneath the couch cushions as the door opens.

“Hey,” Seohyun says as she slips off her shoes.

“Hi,” Suho replies and stands up. He greets her with a kiss. “How was the store?”

“It was fine. I got a bunch of stuff for our camping trip. I’m having it delivered here. I hope you don’t mind.” She drops her purse on the couch and makes to sit down but Suho grabs her by the waist and pulls her close. “What are you doing?” she asks, slightly alarmed.

“Nothing,” he answers and runs his fingers through her long, soft hair. Over her shoulder, he sees a tiny corner of the envelope sticking out from under the cushion. “I haven’t seen you since yesterday. I missed you.”

She returns the embrace, squeezing him lightly. “Missed you too.” She tries to pull away but he holds firm.

Suho inhales the scent of her flowery perfume and feels a surge of affection.

She’s perfect.

 At least, perfect for the Joonmyeon that he has created. But even Suho has to admit that she’s easy to love: beautiful, smart, kind. Perhaps a little dull but not unbearably so.

He kisses her. Seohyun’s skin is soft and smooth against his.

“Joonmyeon,” she whisper as he moves his lips to her throat. “It’s one in the afternoon.”

“It’s a Saturday,” he murmurs back. “But we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He turns to step away.

Seohyun weaves her fingers together behind his neck to keep him in place. “I never said that. I’m just saying, we have to meet my parents in an hour. So if you want to fuck me, you better fuck me quick.”

Maybe not so dull.

She squeals as he picks her up and carries her to the bedroom.

He makes a mental note to burn the pictures as soon as possible. 

 

*

 

Suho doesn't burn the pictures right away. After meeting Seohyun's parents for a late lunch and coming back to his apartment alone, he examines the photos and notices that they were all taken from the same vantage point: somewhere from inside the room and angled downward. 

He stands in the middle of his apartment and faces the space opposite the couch. He has a TV and low-rise TV stand. A clock above the TV. And next to the television, a tall bookshelf. Next to the bookshelf is an ornate mirror hanging from the wall.

Suho drags a chair to the front of the bookshelf and carefully steps up on the seat. He finds two things: an incredible amount of dust and a small piece of paper folded in half. Once safely back on the floor, he opens it with shaking hands. 

 

_See you soon. -C_

 

He crumples the note and throws it into the burn pile

 


	7. TAO

[Story 7 - Tao](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S0TmZodLTKI)

 

_Day One – Beta 13_

_Tao – Intermediate Level 1 Handler on temporary assignment for the exploration team – Hera Institute_

_Time of crossing: 04:35_

_Location: currently unknown_

_Notes:_

  1. _Radiation levels are low to normal. Vegetation appears comparable to those found in U-0 and other Beta universes._
  2. _Urban density is still unknown but there are signs of Level 8 civilization (paved roads, traffic signs, noise pollution, artificial light pollution). Conditions indicate that the roads are still in use._
  3. _Language development still unknown. Geo-political boundaries unknown._



_Tao closes his notebook and stows it safely inside his pack. He checks his inventory of essentials:_

_Six bottles of water, three packages of rations, four pens of anti-radiation medication, one handgun with all necessary parts, one box of compatible ammunition, one box of matches, one medical supply kit, one regulation toothbrush and tube of paste, one stopwatch._

_He’s managed to set up his tent near a moving stream which should cut down on using his own water. The relative silence of the forest means that he’s probably isolated enough not to worry about sudden guests. Still, he’s set up a system of strings and empty cans around his base as a precaution._

_‘Another day,’ he thinks, laying back on his makeshift pillow, ‘another universe to explore.’_

*

Tao can’t stop pacing and checking his watch. There’s eleven minutes until three a.m. which, if all goes according to schedule, is still enough time for something to go wrong. Every few seconds, he glances through the two-way mirror, into the former interrogation room, where their guest is hooded and zip-tied to a chair.

Xiumin watches him warily. “The floor is going to fall through if you keep that up,” he says.

But Tao simply glares at him and continues his repetitive march. His paranoia isn’t completely unjustified.

Five years previously, he had been a rookie handler with no real responsibilities but his supervisor was in charge of observing a target named Kevin Li – a Chinese-Canadian student attending a university in Shanghai. Li emerged on the Institute’s radar when he became involved in radical student protests and his position within the activist sphere seemed ideal for the Institute’s more political purposes.

It wasn’t until after they had acquired him that they realized their mistake. Kevin Li was merely the cover story for Wu Yifan, a Chinese intelligence officer on an undercover assignment.

In hindsight, it was obvious that “Kevin Li” was not who he claimed to be but the excitement of finding a matched agent in Kris blinded them to the truth. Tao knows the chances of finding an agent of the Institute to match a target of interest is rare, nearly impossible. China has the most with almost thirty agents successfully planted. Korea has ten.  

Tao remembers too well the chaos that followed Yifan’s escape: the near cancellation of the entire Operation before a few senior board members stepped in, the resignation of the chief handler, the demotion of his own supervisor, changes in procedure regarding management of the targets.

Less than a dozen people from the Institute know about Yifan’s existence. Of those people, only a handful have actually met the legend, Tao among them.

Before Yifan, they had examined and questioned the targets in their own universe before deciding whether they were worth taking back to the Institute or not. A structure - similar to the underground level that housed the portal - had been built for that purpose. Now, the formerly functioning facility is merely a location to secure targets before being taken back to the Institute as quickly as possible which means harsh time constraints and little room for error.

“Fucking Yifan,” he mutters.

“Who’s Yifan?” Xiumin asks.

Tao realizes he hadn’t spoken quietly enough. “Nobody. Don’t worry about it.” His pace picks up speed.

Realizing that agitated handler has no plans to stand still, Xiumin retrieves a bottle of water from his bag and heads towards the door of the interrogation room.

“Woah, woah, woah,” says Tao, stopping him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m just giving him a little water,” Xiumin says patiently. “If he’s too dehydrated, he might not make the crossing which means we’ve only done half our job. Besides, it helps me ease my conscience since we’re about to ruin this person’s life. You know it’s true,” he speaks over Tao’s weak denial. “It’s not as if when an agent completes his or her mission, the targets gets to return. Something happens to them. That’s why you killed Minseok instead of bringing him back to the institute, isn’t it?”

Tao doesn’t blink. The phrase is too well rehearsed. “The target tried to escape and per protocol, I eliminated him. That’s it.”

“Okay.” Xiumin gently shakes off Tao’s grip on his arm. “Maybe that was the case. But this guy – what’s his name again?”

“Kyungsoo,” Tao replies against his better judgment. It’s never wise to humanize the target.

“It will be nothing short of a miracle if Kyungsoo manages to untie himself from the chair, get through the door which can only be opened from the outside, fight off both me  _and you_ , sneak past the driver, and escape to the nearest semblance of civilization which is over forty miles in any direction.”

Tao doesn’t tell him that what he describes isn’t as miraculous as he thinks. “We’ve got five minutes until three. Make it quick,” he says and positions himself by the two-way mirror in order to watch.

After a year of observation, Tao concluded that Kyungsoo is not particularly strong and is fairly mild-mannered with a patience that can only be acquired by working with children. He had expected an easy acquisition but was confronted by a scrappy refusal to be taken without a fight. His initially worries that D.O is too temperamental to successfully infiltrate the target’s life had lessened somewhat after the encounter with Kyungsoo’s combative side.

Tao unconsciously touches a spot on his jaw where the target landed a good hit before being stabbed with a sedative, the effect of which has worn off by now.

Xiumin approaches slowly, obviously not wanting to startle Kyungsoo. He pinches a corner of the hood and pulls it up and over in a smooth motion.

Kyungsoo blinks a few times against the sudden light before his eyes adjust. His jaw clenches as his teeth grind down on the strip of white cloth pulled between his lips and knotted at the back of his head. He looks up at Xiumin with confusion, fidgeting against the thin strips of plastic holding him down.

Xiumin doesn’t smile but his voice comes out soft and mollifying. “I’m going to give you some water but you have to stay quiet, okay?”

Tao notices the lack of redness and swelling around Kyungsoo’s eyes. The young man has yet to cry: an admirable accomplishment considering his situation.

Kyungsoo hesitates a second before nodding. His jaw relaxes enough for Xiumin to tug on the gag and let it slip around his neck. He runs a dry tongue over even drier lips.

Xiumin carefully lifts the bottle until a trickle pours into Kyungsoo’s open mouth. With an inflated look of concentration on Xiumin’s face, the entire operation comes across as oddly intimate and friendly. Kyungsoo gets through half the bottle before he lets out a small gargle and Xiumin quickly pulls back.

Kyungsoo turns his head and coughs twice into his shoulder. He looks back at Xiumin. “Where’s the other guy?” he asks, voice barely a whisper. “The scary looking one.”

Tao scoffs at the characterization. He checks his watch.

One minute.

He knocks on the two-way mirror.

Both Xiumin and Kyungsoo jerk at the noise and stare in his direction. He flinches and reminds himself that they definitely can’t see anything through the other side of the glass. Still, he’s a little unnerved. He knocks again.

“Guess it’s time,” Xiumin says as he crams the fabric back into Kyungsoo’s mouth. His fingers find the split seam of the hood and pull back the edges to create a dark opening.

Kyungsoo, obviously aware that being blind puts him at a disadvantage, shakes his head. The first sign of tears begin to show in the inner corner of his round eyes. A noise of protest, a low sob mixed with a quiet whimper, manages to pierce the gag. It’s the kind of sound that would elicit pity from the most hardened souls and here, Xiumin hesitates.

Tao bangs on the glass again, this third time out of impatience and frustration.

Perhaps if Kyungsoo had never been shown a little bit if kindness in the first place, he wouldn’t be so resistant. At least, that’s Tao’s theory. He’s been a part of these kind of operations more times than he likes to think about and finds people to be more compliant when their captors are anonymous, faceless beings with inscrutable intentions. The fear keeps them in line.

But Kyungsoo has seen Xiumin’s hamster face and heard his youthful voice, neither of which are terrifying in the least. If anything, it gives him hope which lends itself to defiance.

Tao opens the door. He feels Kyungsoo staring at him but keeps his own eyes focused on Xiumin. “Thirty seconds. Go. I’ll stay and watch him.”

Xiumin looks reluctant but doesn’t question the order. He pauses to give Tao the hood and takes the headset in return.

The door shuts behind Tao with a soft click.

Kyungsoo closes his eyes and tears stream prettily down his cheeks. His trembling grows more violent as Tao walks towards him.

Tao gently grips Kyungsoo’s chin, tilts his face to the side, and marvels at how such a thing is possible. How could it be that this person is not D.O but the author of his own story? One that, up until this point, had been entirely separate from the narrative of his own history. And here they are about to converge into an unnatural, almost blasphemous, plot.

But in a way, he knows it’s meant to happen.

The tips of his fingers grow wet with Kyungsoo’s tears and pity stirs in his chest. Maybe it is purely bad luck, he thinks, that this young man shares the face of a Hera agent.

He sighs without meaning to and Kyungsoo opens his eyes. He sees his own reflection in the dark brown iris, the image that he projects to the world: cold, aloof, dangerous.

Tao plays his part. “Listen carefully,” he growls. “If you cause any trouble, I mean any at all, I will cut out those big freaky eyes of yours and then we won’t need to bother with this hood. Do you understand?”

Kyungsoo stares back at him without any indication that he had heard.

Tao tightens his grip on Kyungsoo’s face, less out of anger than fear that he’ll have to make good on his threat. “Do you understand?”

Kyungsoo lifts his chin ever so slightly and lowers it again.

That’s good enough for Tao. He shakes open the hood and slides it down over Kyungsoo’s head. He’s now just another anonymous target. He steps back, relieved.

(Tao pulls the door handle which merely rattles without moving. He had forgotten that it can only open from the other side. He blushes at this amateur gaffe, grateful that Kyungsoo could not see him. )

He checks his watch. Two minutes past three.

D.O should have arrived by now.

Another minute passes and Tao begins to worry.

The door creaks loudly as it swings open. “He’s here,” announces Xiumin, still wearing the headset. He glances at Kyungsoo. His expression is neutral and he says nothing more.

Tao hurries out of the room. D.O looks a little pale but not any worse than the other agents who have crossed. “You okay?” he asks anyways.

D.O nods. “Yes, I’m fine,” he says, managing to muster a little enthusiasm.

Tao gives him a cellphone, set of keys, and a wallet. “These are yours now. Go upstairs, two flights, and your driver will be waiting for you. I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Yes, okay,” D.O says but doesn’t move. He stares down at the objects in his hands, silent.

“Do you have any questions?” Tao asks, trying to conceal his impatience as best as he can.

D.O looks up, past him, through the two-way mirror. His gaze is fixed upon the hooded figure. “Is that him?” He takes a step towards the glass. “Is that…what’s going to happen to him?”

Tension fills the observation room as neither Tao nor Xiumin answers. Not that Xiumin knows what happens to the targets but he understands the futility of trying to find out.

Tao settles for putting a hand on D.O’s shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting manner. “You don’t need to worry about that. Just go to Kyungsoo’s place and do your job.” He nods assuringly. “You’ll be fine.”

It’s not until after D.O leaves that Xiumin turns to him and says, “Do you mind if we finish this quickly? If my aunt wakes up and finds I’m not home, she’ll panic.”

Tao raises an eyebrow. “Your aunt?”

“Minseok’s aunt. It’s the same thing now, isn’t it?” Xiumin shrugs.

Tao hopes this is not the beginning of a bad habit. He pushes the concern to the back of his mind in favor of concentrating on the immediate task. “Let’s get the target back to the Institute.”

*

_Kris manages to refrain from pouncing on Tao as soon as the handler steps off the elevator. The entire office looks up and, for a moment, falls completely silent before resuming their work a little too loudly to be natural. “You okay?” Kris asks._

_“I’m fine,” Tao replies, sitting down at his dusty desk. He picks up a Styrofoam cup that has been there for weeks and tosses it into the trash. If his desk had belonged to anybody else in the office, his pens and hi-lighters, paper clips and staples, and whatever else wasn’t glued down would have been pilfered and claimed by the other workers._

_But as a trained handler who also lends his skills to the Exploration Unit, Tao inspires a certain fear, one that Kris can never quite obtain for himself no matter how hard he glares. Nobody dares to disturb anything lest Tao returns and notices._

_“If you insist,” Kris says, pulling away slowly in case Tao changes his mind. He’s disappointed when instead, he turns on his computer without another word._

_Kris goes back to his own desk and tries to focus on work but Tao’s cold behavior prevents him from concentrating. He’s just about to take an undeserved break when he receives a message notification on his phone._

**_[Tao – 9:15 AM]_ **

**_Cigarette?_ **

_He looks over the grid of cubicles and sees Tao staring intently at his monitor. Too intently to be actually working. He stands up and heads toward the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tao follow. They board the lift and wait in silence as it brings them to the roof._

_“I thought you were going to quit smoking,” Kris finally says as they push through the heavy metal door and step into the fresh air._

_“Yeah, I will. Starting tomorrow.” Tao takes out a fresh pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. He offers one to Kris who refuses as usual._

_For a minute, they simply stand next to one another and look out over the Institute. For a research center focused on cutting edge science and modern technology, he had been surprised to find so many red-brick, ivy-covered buildings. Only fourteen years old and newly accepted into Artemis, he had fallen in love with the old fashioned feel and tall trees._

_“How come you didn’t contact me as soon as you came back from Beta-13?” Kris asks, feeling like a nagging wife but unable to hold back now that they are alone._

_Tao looks down, smoke curling from his lips. “Sorry. I know you worry about me but I just needed time to think about something.”_

_The door to the roof opens and they both turn. An engineer, one that Kris recognizes but doesn’t know by name, spots them both and freezes, cigarette dangling from his lips. He sputters an apology and attempts to bow, back out, and close the door at the same time._

_“It’s okay,” says Tao. “You don’t have to – ”_

_But the engineer has already disappeared. Kris doesn’t blame him for not wanting to stick around but Tao looks genuinely distressed. He crushes the stub beneath his shoe and immediately pulls out another stick._

_“I guess it is better that we have the roof to ourselves,” he says after taking a deep drag. “There’s something I want to show you.” He reaches behind him and pulls out something tucked into the waistband of his pants, hidden beneath his coat. He hands Kris a large, rolled up piece of paper._

_Kris carefully unfurls it and holds the paper out at arm’s length. “What is this?” he asks, frowning. “Tao, is that...is that you at the end?”_

_Tao nods and blows a stream of smoke from his nostrils. He looks amused. “Check out the guy at the other end.”_

_Kris brings the poster a few inches from his face. “What the fuck am I wearing?” he shouts as he recognizes the figure at the far left. “Why…where in the world did you get this?”_

_“Not in this world. I ripped it off the wall of a small village music store in Beta-13,” says Tao. He drops the extinguished cigarette butt from his hand. “Don’t worry. We don’t look like that anymore. It’s a pretty old poster. We were a boy band but we’re broken up now.”_

_“Broken up?” Kris repeats. His head starts to spin. “Wait, did you say boy band?”_

_“Yeah. According to the lady at the store, we were really popular for a while.” He steps closer to Kris so they can examine the poster together. “See anybody else you recognize?” he asks casually, as if they were looking through an old yearbook, reminiscing about their youth._

_“Um.” His legs feel weak but there is no place to sit down on the dirty roof. “The guy in the middle is my new roommate, you know him, Kai. What the hell is he doing in a boy band? And the guy next to him is his brother. I trained with him at Artemis. We were pretty close before he left for his assignment. And Xiumin. We trained with him too.”_

_“This guy,” says Tao, pointing at the figure fourth from Kris. “He’s the new Artemis graduate in the Psychiatric unit, isn’t he?”_

_Kris squints, wondering how he missed him. “Yeah, D.O or something. Quiet guy.” He looks away, feeling a little disoriented and sick._

_Tao pulls out two more cigarettes and this time, Kris doesn’t refuse. He holds the poster by one side, the wrinkled and faded edge of the other end curling in on itself. He uses his other hand to hold his smoke. “This is so weird,” he murmurs. “A fucking boy band…”_

_“Could be worse,” says Tao._

_Kris grudgingly agrees with this point. Although Tao’s reports are way above his clearance level, he’s been privileged to pieces of the handler’s exploratory missions since Kris is his only friend. Tao has visited universes devastated by nuclear wars, universes governed by cannibalistic tribes, universes where the entire world dresses in white robes, doesn’t shave, and worships a two headed ostrich deity. So a boy band is not the worst situation for his alternate self._

_And he realizes that fame, fortune, and girls would not be the worst life for Tao either. Kris has never asked about the pink, jagged scars that run down his back which he saw once by accident. He’s certain the answer would break his heart._

_“I have a theory,” says Tao._

_Kris looks down to hide his exasperated expression. He’s been an audience to plenty of Tao’s theories which run from barely plausible to wildly absurd._

_“The people in our lives are in it for a reason,” Tao continues philosophically. “We’re bound together by fate. No, something stronger than fate. And if we’re lucky enough to both exist in a universe, we find each other.” He pauses. “Maybe not in the same capacity across all universes. In another life, I could be your father. Or maybe just an acquaintance. Or maybe your worst enemy. Either way, we’re connected, you and me and these other guys.”_

_Although the poster obviously proves him wrong, Kris finds it hard to believe someone as strange as Tao could exist anywhere else._

_Kris drops the cigarettes even though he is not finished and grinds it into the floor. He straightens the poster once again. “So I kind of get it. In this world, you, me, Suho, Kai, Xiumin and D.O are all connected via the Institute. But what about the rest of these clowns? I’ve never seen them before in my life.”_

_Tao shrugs. “Maybe they don’t exist here. But you’re still young and have the rest of your life to meet people. Maybe you’ll meet them tomorrow. Maybe one of them will be the one to kill you.”_

_Kris examines the faces of the six unidentified boys, all of whom are too pretty to be a legitimate threat to his life. “I sincerely doubt it.” He hands the poster back to Tao. “I can’t believe they let you keep this. It’s definitely against the rules.”_

_“Someone owed me a favor but now that I’ve shown it to you, I can’t risk it being found,” says Tao. He snaps the wheel of the lighter and holds the flame to a loose corner of the poster._

_The fire quickly consumes the aged paper and Tao drops it before it can burn his hand. Kris watches his face, along with the others, turn black and then mottled gray. The wind blows the ashes over the edge of the roof._

_It takes a certain amount of faith and courage to believe that other worlds exist and even more humility to admit another self is possible– maybe not with the same occupation or upbringing or name even but the same soul, the very thing that makes one unique in a world that doesn’t stop for anyone._

_“Don’t think about it too much,” Tao says as they head back down. “You’ll drive yourself crazy trying to figure out the answer.”_

_Kris closes his eyes and tries to forget the faces of the boys he did not recognize but they’re seared into his brain. For the first time in his life, he thinks that Tao might be onto something._


	8. KAI

Story 8 – Kai

As far as roommates go, Kai knows he got lucky with Kris. Basing their compatibility on nothing more than their mutual affection for Suho, it had been essentially a leap of faith when he accepted the psychiatrist’s housing offer. A year into their arrangement, they’ve come to resemble a long married but still mildly affectionate couple.

Their toothbrushes were bought as a set (Kai’s is blue, Kris uses the pink) and they share a tube of toothpaste. Laundry is a mix of both tenant’s clothes and neither of them can remember who owns which pair of socks anymore. They have dinner together as often as possible despite their workload, taking turns preparing a meal for two. They eat mostly in silence without feeling the need to fill it with mindless chatter about their day.

But on this particular evening, the quiet between them is different.  Agitated and charged with energy, most of it radiating off of Kris. His eyes dart around the room, landing on nothing in particular. One toe taps incessantly against the floor.

Kai puts a salad to share on the table as well as two large plates. “Are you okay?” he ventures to inquire.

Kris runs an enormous hand through his blonde hair. “Yeah, it’s fine. I just…” He stops and inhales deeply. “Dinner smells great. What are we having?”

“Lasagna but it needs another ten minutes in the oven,” Kai says as he grinds a generous helping of black pepper into the salad. “Why don’t you go wash up?”

“Good idea,” Kris jumps out of his seat. “I’ll be right back.”

Kai hears the bathroom sink running as he sets cutlery to the side of the plates. He wonders what happened in Section 302-D to rile up his roommate but knows better than to ask.

The oven beeps and Kai slips on a pair of heat resistant mitts. He pulls out the lasagna and scoops a manageable serving on to each of their plates. He hears the shuffle of Kris’s steps and turns around. “Dinner is ready” he announces.

“Looks amazing,” says Kris. He sits down, rubbing his hands together. He picks up his fork and shovels a steaming mixture of pasta sheet, cheese, meat, and tomato sauce into his mouth.

Kai raises an eyebrow.

Kris puffs his cheeks and his eyes water as he tries to pretend that he hadn’t just burnt his tongue.

“Are you sure everything is fine?” Kai asks.

Kris nods, still unable to open his mouth from the pain.

Kai doesn’t believe him but keeps further questions to himself.

“I’m just really hungry,” Kris manages to finally say halfway through the meal. He takes another bite, more cautiously this time. “I missed lunch today.”

“Work been busy?”

Anyone else would have missed the half-second pause before Kris’s response but Kai has been living with him too long not to notice. “You have no idea.” He stuffs his cheeks with salad and chews slowly.

They settle into their usual silence, punctuated by Kris’s compliments of the meal which Kai graciously accepts. Neither of them are culinary geniuses but both can put together a decent dinner menu without trouble.

After the salad has been eaten and they’ve had their share of carbs, Kris puts the leftovers in containers for tomorrow’s lunch and starts on the dishes. He looks cute with the pink rubber gloves pulled past his forearms and hums the commercial jingle for a well-known dish soap as he scrubs the plates clean of dried cheese and tomato sauce.

Kai leaves him to his chore and goes to his room, closing the door behind him. He props his pillows up against the headboard of his bed and settles back with a book. He tries to concentrate on the story but his mind keeps wandering to his roommate’s odd behavior.

Due to the secretive nature of his job, Kris normally exudes a practiced calm that many people mistake for arrogance or snobbery. He show his playful side to a select few, including Kai, and can be absolutely child-like when his mind is unburdened with work. But Kai has never seen him so twitchy and unfocused before.

He hears the low rumble of Kris’s voice speaking to someone on the telephone. He turns back to the book, trying not to eavesdrop, but the walls are thin and Kai isn’t trying as hard as he could, curiosity aroused.

“Yeah, we just had dinner,” Kris says. “...Kai cooked…lasagna…good…no, I swear I didn’t tell him anything…I swear! I was good…yeah…uh huh…so does that mean I can come over…I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Wear that black nightgown I like…bye.”

Amber. Of course. His ‘not girlfriend, we’re just keeping each other company.’

(Early on in their cohabitation, Kai had worked serious overtime one evening. Too exhausted to deal with public transportation, he took a cab home. He had figured Kris to be asleep and trying to be a courteous roommate, opened the door as quietly as possible.

Had he made his arrival more obvious, he probably wouldn’t have been greeted by the muscles of Kris’s bare ass clenching and unclenching as he fucked into someone beneath him on the couch, uttering lines so explicit that Kai blocked them from his memory.

The clatter of Kai’s messenger bag falling to the floor startled everyone, including himself. Kris stopped moving and looked over his shoulder. “Kai,” he said with only the faintest note of embarrassment. “I…had no idea you’d be home so quick.”

“I took a cab,” Kai explained weakly. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – let me just – oh god. I’m so sorry.” He spun around, trying to remember how to get to his room or leave the apartment or gouge his own eyes. He slammed his shoulder into the doorway between the living room and kitchen. He stumbled, apologies still spilling from his mouth.

“Maybe I should go,” a familiar voice said.

Kai found the courage to look over at the couch and saw Amber, of all people, clasp shut the top of her pants. “Hey, how’s it going?” she asked, casually combing her fingers through her short hair.

He had been too stunned to speak. Not that he ever bothered to ask but Kai hadn’t expected Amber to be Kris’s type. He imagined someone taller, more feminine, a little on the dim side but with a generous set of breasts. She’d match him visually although Kai was sure that he would secretly think Kris deserved better.

“Good,” he answered once he realized she had addressed him. Her blouse was still unbuttoned and he tried not to stare.

She seemed to sense the reason for his discomfort and fixed her top without breaking eye contact. As the last button slid into its appropriate slot, she smirked.

He blushed furiously. He decided Kris could do a lot worse than her and she could probably do better than him. )

Kai shakes his head in an attempt to dislodge the traumatic memory. He hears footsteps approaching his room and he pushes the open pages closer to his face in order to disguise his thoughts. A soft knock rattles the door. “Come in,” Kai says with forced nonchalance.

Kris pushes the door open just a bit and sticks his head through the gap. “Hey, I’m going to meet a friend. I’ll probably be back late so don’t wait up.”

“Yeah sure.” Kai nods, playing along, and Kris flashes him a smile. His roommate closes the door behind him.

Keys jangle, another door shuts, and then silence.

Kai reads the same sentence three times before flinging the book aside. He supposes he could turn on the television or work out or just call it an early night but none of those things appeal to him at all. What he really wants, he realizes, is to…

…not be alone.

For a moment, he considers calling Yoona and breaking their promise to stay away from each other. Her, because she loves him too much and him, because he does not.

No, that isn’t true, he thinks. He loves Yoona deeply. Just not in the way she wants him to love her.

(Their relationship had been doomed from the start; acknowledging the older girl’s affections for him simply because he didn’t want to think about his own heartbreak. He liked her more than he initially thought he would. She is incredibly pretty as well as kind and funny. The age difference didn’t seem to matter until Yoona entered university two years before him.

They made it through somehow and they stayed together until Kai’s last year of university when Yoona casually brought up the idea of marriage.

He could have reacted better to the conversation, he admits.

_“Why can’t we just keep going with the way things are now? Isn’t it enough?”_

It had been the wrong thing to say to the woman he had been dating for almost seven years. But once the words were out of his mouth, he couldn’t take them back no matter how much he apologized.

She broke up with him a few weeks later with tears in her eyes. She still loved him, she always would. But she couldn’t be with somebody who didn’t feel the same way about her. It wasn’t fair to either of them.)

He reckons there are other girls he could call. But all of them are girls he knows through mutual friends. Friends who would eventually hear of his less than honorable intentions and shake their heads in shock, saying they had no idea that Kai was that kind of person.

But Kai doesn’t want to be who he is. At least, not for a few hours.

He grabs his keys and heads out, feet transporting him to a bar a several blocks away from his apartment building, one he’s passed many times but never entered. He shows his identification card to the bouncer out front and slips into the noisy, smoky establishment.

The place is crowded but most of the patrons have congregated around the pool table so he easily finds a seat at the bar.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asks, stretching his arms wide and placing his palms firmly on the varnished wooden counter.

“Whiskey soda,” Kai replies. “And a glass of water too, please.”

The bartender pours a shot of well whiskey into a glass chocked with ice and fills the remaining space with fountain soda. He puts the drink in front of Kai and fills a cup meant for pints of beer with tap water, no ice. A ring of condensation immediately appears as he sets it down.

Kai hands over a 10,000 won bill. “Keep the change,” he tells the bartender and turns in his seat to survey the dimly lit room.

The place is a dive, the kind of bar Kris would never willingly enter. Most of the customers are cheery day laborers with blistered hands and skin freckled from exposure to the sun. Sleeveless cotton reveal thick biceps and forearms. Kai tries to blend in despite his sweater with suede elbow patches. He sips his drink which has too much soda and not enough alcohol.

There are a few women near the dart board but they seem to already be companions of the other men. Still, they glance over at him and smile, appreciating his youthful presence. He smiles politely back but doesn’t encourage their attention. The last thing he needs is a jealous boyfriend or husband getting the wrong idea.

He drains the rest of his drink in a long, hard gulp and hisses. Most of the whiskey had settled at the bottom of the glass and the sting of alcohol lingers on his tongue. He washes away the burn with the metallic tap water.

Kai stretches his neck and looks for the bartender but the man is nowhere to be found. The other customers, having been served their drinks, don’t seem to notice his absence.

He suddenly feels foolish and disgusted with himself. He isn’t one of those men who prey on drunk women for an easy fuck. He thinks of how disappointed Kris or Suho would be if they knew where he was at the moment.

The bartender reappears, lifting the gate and stepping behind the counter. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says to Kai with a friendly smile. “Next drink is on the house. What can I get for you?”

He should go home. He really should. But in a fit of self-loathing, he replies “another whiskey soda please.”

His second tastes more of whiskey than soda and he drinks it quicker than his first. He’s trying hard not to pull a face and almost doesn’t notice the stool next his rattling as someone slides into the seat.

“Hey Vee,” the bartender says. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, the usual,” a sweet, girly voice answers. “Put it on my tab.”

“You don’t have a tab.”

“I don’t?” she asks with a feigned surprise.

The bartender laughs as if it’s an old joke. “Okay. One whiskey soda then.”

Kai peer sideways at the new arrival. She seems about his age and her white skin and shiny brown waves are a bit unusual amongst the fried skin and bleached locks of the other women. But despite her appearance, she looks completely at ease. She pours her drink down her throat without hesitation.

“You want another?” the bartender asks Kai, interrupting his observation.

“Um.” Kai gives a clumsy shrug before noticing the “cash only” sign tucked away behind the row of well liquors. “Sorry, all I got left is my credit card,” he says, rising out of his seat.

“Put it on my tab,” his neighbor, the funny girl, suddenly inserts. “Go on, Junjin. I’m feeling generous.”

The bartender looks at him and waits for a response, hand resting on the soda fountain dispenser.

Kai sits back down, biting back a sigh. It’s not as if he has to drive home so another drink couldn’t hurt. “Thanks,” he says quietly, watching the bartender create another whiskey soda. Once the drink is in his hand, he turns to his benefactor, more out of courtesy than a desire to make conversation.

She’s already smiling brightly at him. “Hi, I’m Victoria,” she says, holding out her hand.

He shakes it, momentarily stunned by her beauty which his quick glance hadn’t foreshadowed. “Kai,” he remembers to say. “Thanks again for the drink.”

“You’re welcome.”

He notices a Sino dialect when she speaks, more pronounced than Kris’s and less than Tao’s. “Are you…” he starts but changes his mind. “You come here often?” he says and inwardly winces at what is commonly known as the most hackneyed pick-up line in the world.

But Victoria doesn’t seem to mind. She orders two more drinks, one for herself and the other for Kai before he can protest.

“So Kai,” she says once they have clinked and emptied their glasses. “What do you do?”

“I’m a biomechanical researcher,” he replies, wiping his mouth. “I specialize in athletics.”

Victoria’s eyes widen. “Smart boy.” She sounds impressed.

Kai shakes his head. “Not really. I originally wanted to be a personal trainer. However my mom wanted me to be a doctor which I’m definitely not qualified for. But I wanted to please her so…we compromised.”

“And you love your mother.” She tilts her head to the side. “Could you be more perfect?”

Kai looks down, his cheeks flushing partly from the alcohol and partly from the compliment. They buy another round of drinks, whiskey without the soda, his water completely abandoned.

Still, he feels a familiar tingle below his stomach. “I’ll be right back,” he tells Victoria and heads off to find a restroom. The laminated signs on the wall direct him towards the rear of the establishment and he finds himself in a narrow hallway. One door is marked ‘Employees Only.’ The other is a unisex bathroom.

He knocks first to make sure nobody Is inside before pushing the door with his fingertips. The tiny bathroom has no stalls, just a grimy sink, a grimier toilet, and the unmistakable stench of inaccurate aim.

Kai takes the third longest piss of his life. He uses the toe of shoe to flush the toilet and steps in front of the sink to wash his hands. The water screeches as it pours out of the faucet in full force, spraying all over the counter when his palms make an uneasy grab for it. He looks around and finds no sign of soap so he settles for rubbing his hands together under the violent stream.

He reaches for the paper towel dispenser but sees the empty roll through the clear, plastic cover. He shakes the excess water off his hands and sighs. He can’t leave the bathroom quick enough. He opens the door.

Victoria is standing on the other side, a determined look on her face. Kai opens his mouth to excuse himself when she pushes him and he stumbles backward.

She steps in after him and closes the door. “That was a long piss,” she remarks, getting ever closer.

Kai backs up and his head knocks the useless paper towel dispenser. He nods. “Third longest of my life,” he replies, trying to lighten the suddenly loaded atmosphere. At first, he tries not to look at her, glancing at the ceiling or the door but this avoidance seems too obvious and rude. He lowers his head and forces his eyes to meet hers.

She bridges the distance between them.

The first thing Kai notices is that she kisses differently than Yoona. His ex-girlfriend’s kisses had been soft, languid, unhurried, as if she knew they had the rest of their lives to embrace each other. They had made love in the same way.

Victoria alternates between pressing against him with intense desire, the kind that making out in public bathrooms seem to generate, and quick, playful nibbling at his lips. He finds himself enjoying her unpredictable style and he works to keep up.

Her hands disappear from his shoulder and a few moments later, he hears a zip and feels the waistband of his pants relax. He turns his head. “Wait, wait,” he whispers. “Not here. It’s really gross. Somewhere else.”

She nips at his jaw before bringing her lips to his ear. Her breath is hot against his skin. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” he answers without hesitation.

 

 

*

 

She lives farther from the bar than Kai does, in a rougher neighborhood. Her apartment complex sits on the corner of where two busy streets intersect. The exterior could use an upgrade and the flower beds need weeding. But the interior is surprising modern and well-kept.

No walls separates the kitchen from the sitting area, making the apartment appear larger than the actual square footage. Kai stands awkwardly by the coffee table, between a loveseat and an armchair, while Victoria goes into the kitchen.

She opens the refrigerator. The weak yellow light projects her shadow onto the adjacent wall. She comes back with a single beer, twisting off the top and tossing it into the trash. “I wasn’t really expecting to bring anyone home tonight,” she says, handing him the ice-cold bottle. “Can you give me five minutes to straighten up my room?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak lest he lose his nerve and bolt out of the apartment.

She smiles and gently pushes him down on the loveseat. “Thanks,” she says. “It won’t take long.”

Kai watches her disappear through the door farthest from the front and shut it behind her. He quickly takes a sip of his beer and forces the bitter drink past the lump in his throat. He’s fairly sober at this point and a million thoughts fly through his mind.

_What the hell am I doing? It’s fine. This will be fun. I don’t even know this girl. She probably wouldn’t be all that upset if I just leave right now. No, that would be a jerk move. But this is for all the wrong reasons. Well, are there such things as the ‘right reasons?’ Just keep drinking. No, stop drinking or else you won’t be able to get it up. Did she seem too drunk? This is such a bad idea. What is taking her so long? Did she –_

His thoughts are interrupted by the scraping of a key inside the lock. Kai freezes, hand clutching the half-empty beer bottle.

The front door opens and a young man enters the apartment. He glances at Kai impassively and nods. “Hey, how’s it going?” he asks.

Kai doesn’t return the greeting. He can’t tell if the other man is actually indifferent or just hiding his anger very well. His head swivels as his gaze follows the young man through the living room and kitchen, and into Victoria’s room. He leaves the door slightly ajar and Kai hears the low rumblings of a conversation.

_Shit, shit, shit. She has a boyfriend. He’s going to kill me. Or maybe mug me. Maybe this is a set-up. I need to get out of here._

The young man reappears and softly closes Victoria’s door just as Kai stands up. He shakes his head. “I’m not her boyfriend so don’t worry. Please sit,” he urges. He goes to the refrigerator and pulls out another beer. “Finish your drink.”

Kai hesitates but he finds it more tiring to cobble together a decent refusal so he sits back down on the loveseat, still holding his beer like a weapon.

The young man takes the arm chair and twists off the cap to his bottle. He takes a lengthy swig before finally introducing himself. “I’m Lay,” he says. He points over his shoulder to the door next to Victoria’s. “I’m her roommate.”

Kai’s face warms as he fills up with relief. “Oh okay. I…my name is Kai. I’m…” he pauses “a friend?” He cringes at how unconvincing he sounds.

But Lay simply nods and smirks, a dimple forming in his left cheek.

Kai stares at the indentation and the smooth, white expanse of skin around it. Lay shifts in his seat and Kai is suddenly aware of how close their knees are to one another despite the presence of the coffee table. He drinks to hide his discomfort, finishing the bottle in a long pull.

He sets the bottle on the coffee table and a reedy burp escapes before he can stop it. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

Lay makes no indication of offense. He sets his own bottle down and leans forward. From the table, he open a hidden drawer and pulls out a pad with a pen. “Write down your number,” he says, “I’ll make sure Victoria gets it.”

Kai takes the pen and scrawls his number on the pad. He stands, feeling a bit dizzy but relatively sober. Lay walks him to the door. “Thanks,” says Kai and feels the need to add, “sorry about all this. I didn’t realize she was so drunk.”

Lay shrugs and says evenly, “She likes to pretend she isn’t a lightweight but truthfully, she can’t handle more than a few drinks.” He presses his lips into a thin line and glares at him.

Kai feels inexplicably dirty, as if his insides had been rubbed with gravel. “Look, nothing happened. I wasn’t going to barge into her room and take advantage of her while she was passed out.” He stares hard back at Lay. “You might not believe me but it’s true. Anyways, I’m still sorry. This whole thing was a bad idea.”

Something softens just the slightest in Lay’s eyes. “I’m not accusing you of anything. But she’s not just my roommate, she’s also my friend.”

Kai nods. “Yeah, I understand,” he says quietly. “She’s lucky to have you.” He exhales loudly and wonders how he will get home when exhaustion is etched into every bone in his body. He’s just about to leave when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He glances back in surprise.

“Thanks for getting her home,” Lay says with genuine gratitude. “I’ll see you around.”

Kai isn’t sure why that last sentiment, more like an empty afterthought than a promise, makes him warm. He chalks it up to the alcohol and leaves before he can say anything stupid.

 


	9. There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes

"There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes"

-Les Miserables 'Do You Hear The People Sing?'

 

Story 9 – D.O

The first time that Tao had shown him pictures of Kyungsoo, which was after he found out the true reason he had been assigned to Sector 302-D and before he fully believed in their purpose, D.O had a minor meltdown.

For three weeks, he oscillated between anger at the Institute, the Director, Dana his supervisor, Kangta his recruiter, and depression stemming from existential despair.

One morning, he opened his eyes after a fitful night of sleep and decided he wasn’t going to work that day or any day after that. He felt satisfied with his decision, turned off his alarm, and went back to sleep.

At 9:13 AM, his ringtone blared from the phone’s tiny speakers. He reached towards his nightstand and silenced the call. A minute later, his phone beeped with a text message notification.

  
 

**[Kris – 9:14 AM]**

**Where are you? Are you okay?**

_Beep._

**[Kris – 9:23 AM]**

**Director Ahn is asking about you.**

_Beep._

**[Kris – 9:25 AM]**

**Don’t ignore me.**

_Beep._

**[Kris – 10:00 AM]**

**You’re allowed to take sick leave but if you don’t call in, they’re going to be pissed.**

_Beep._

**[Kris – 10:18 AM]**

**I’m not even fucking around. You seriously need to call in if you’re not coming to work.**

 

 

D.O didn’t see these messages until later but it wouldn’t have mattered. Nothing could change his mind at that point.

An urgent pounding on his door finally roused him at 11:25 AM. He pulled the covers over his head and figured the person would eventually give up. When the racket finally subsided, he figured himself correct and buried his face into the pillow.

Of course, he had been wrong because a few minutes later, angry footsteps marched through his apartment, opening doors and calling his name.

D.O lifted his head in time to see Kris in his doorway, face pale with fury. “What…how the hell did you get in?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep, before remembering that all Artemis graduates knew how to pick locks. It wasn’t a lesson that they learned in any classroom but an informal skilled taught by the older students to the new recruits.

Spots of color burned high on Kris’s cheeks and he reached D.O’s bed in a few long strides. “Get up,” he hissed and ripped away the covers. “Get dressed. Right now.”

“What for?” D.O rolled onto his side, turning his back to Kris. “I quit.”

A hand gripped the back of his head and D.O yelped in an embarrassingly high pitched voice. He was dragged off his bed and forced to his feet. His scalp felt like it was on fire and his eyes watered from the burn.

Kris released his hair and looked at him with undisguised contempt. “You fucking stink. When was the last time you took a shower?”

D.O shrugged. “I don’t remember. Look, I’m sorry you came all the way out here but…just tell them that I can’t do this.”

Kris stared at him for a moment before grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him out of his bedroom. “Where’s the bath?” he asked calmly as D.O stumbled along. “Ah, here it is.” He pushed the young agent forward.

D.O shivered as his bare feet touch the cold tiles. “What’s your problem? Why do you – ”

“Are you a serial killer?” Kris interrupted. “Nobody but serial killers keep their bathroom this pristine.”

“No, I’m not a serial killer,” said D.O, frowning. “I’ve never killed anyone but I may be forced to take that back if you don’t get out of my apartment.”

Kris seemed cheered by this threat. “You’re starting to sound like your old self again. Now, take a fucking shower.” He reached behind the curtain and a second later, water streamed from the showerhead.

D.O crossed his arms, determined to preserve what little of his pride he had left. “I don’t appreciate you breaking into my apartment and telling me what to do.”

Kris sighed. He wrapped his arms around D.O’s waist and tossed him into the tub still fully dressed. “And I don’t appreciate your ingratitude when I’m trying to save your life.”

D.O sputtered and wiped away the water running down his face. “What is your problem?!” he exploded. “Why do you care whether I quit or not?” He glared, hands curling into fists.

Kris took the shampoo off the bathtub ledge and squeezed a dollop into his palm. “I don’t know. I just do.” After a brief pause, he said, “If you decide to quit, they’ll erase your memory. There’s a fifty percent chance you’ll come out of the procedure just fine, mind mostly intact. But I’ve seen what happens if something goes wrong. You’ll be nothing but a drooling mess, unable to feed yourself because your brain doesn’t remember how to pick up a spoon. So let me help you.”

D.O’s anger faded without much resistance. He allowed Kris to rub the shampoo into his hair, dignity be damned. The act was strangly intimate, not sexual at all, a little paternal.

He was just so tired. So, so fucking tired.

Kris adjusted the showerhead and rinsed D.O’s hair of any remaining foamy suds. The water soaked the sleeves of his shirt but he didn’t seem to mind.

Once he was clean, D.O fell back against the tiled wall and slid down until he was cradled by the sides of the tub. And for the second time in his life, he allowed himself to cry in front of another person. He wept openly and the bathroom magnified his sobs until they were all he could hear. The sound of his own anguish, doubts, and regrets.

Kris turned off the shower and sat down, arms folded and his damp elbows hanging over the rim of the tub. “Why do you want to quit?”

D.O took a deep, shuddering breath and sniffed. He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and after a long silence, said, “When I initially applied for the Artemis program, I was rejected. I didn’t pass the physical exam.” He glanced at Kris for his reaction and seeing only a sympathetic look, he continued, “Almost a year later, they got in touch and wanted me to re-apply. That’s why I’m older than the other people in my induction class.”

He pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes and wondered why he was telling Kris, whom he’d only known for a few months, all of this. But he felt better already, less burdened somehow.

“That doesn’t mean you’re any less qualified than the rest of us,” said Kris. “Seriously. You’re good at what you do. You should be proud of yourself.”

D.O lowered his hands and smiled wryly. “The only reason I passed the second time is…there was this person and he…without his help, I wouldn’t have passed and once I learned I was in, I dropped him, basically telling him to fuck off. I never told him I got into Artemis. And I thought sacrificing his friendship would be worth it because I could focus on doing something that mattered, something important. But this…” He met Kris’s gaze with red-rimmed eyes. “What the hell are we doing?

Kris didn’t answer. He stood, gently pulling D.O up with him. He found a towel in the linen closet and draped it across the poor agent’s shivering shoulders. “Hey,” he said cautiously, “it doesn’t matter to me what you do in your personal life. But you know that if the Institute finds out about your preferences, there aren’t any laws to protect you from being terminated and having your memories erased by force.”

D.O frowned, about to tell him that he’d got it twisted, that it wasn’t like that at all. But he held back.

Because it had been complicated.

And like everything else in the past tense, the truth was lost.

 

*

  
 

Over twelve hours have passed since he last saw Tao and the other boy with Kyungsoo although it feels much longer. After being dropped off a few blocks away by the driver, D.O arrived at an empty apartment, slept for a few hours, and went to two of his classes.

D.O had initially felt strange sitting in the lecture hall, seeing for the first time the instructors whose voices he had become familiar with in just three weeks. Not wanting the agent to be noticeably behind the other students, Tao had recorded the last two months of Kyungsoo’s classes (nearly 200 hours of lectures) and given him the tapes. Actually seated in front of the professors, he took notes and paid rapt attention.

Now he is back in the apartment he will share with Chanyeol and trying not to think about his first piano lesson tomorrow at 3:00 PM with little Jo-eun, seven years old, intermediate level three.

He’s fairly confident that he can fool Kyungsoo’s adult acquaintances, mainly fellow music majors and the other piano tutors. He’s even sure than Kyungsoo’s closer friends would never seriously suspect him of being a fake. They’d think him odd, maybe, and a little out of it, but not the actual truth.

Children and dogs, however, have a knack for spotting imposters. Children are especially worrisome because they tend to speak their minds without filtering their thoughts. He goes through Kyungsoo’s lesson schedule again, mumbling the names and skill levels of each student until it sounds like a chant.

D.O sets aside the paper. He stands up and stretches. A yawn escapes despite the non-stop stream of adrenaline pumping through his system since he woke up. He rubs his eyes and looks around Kyungsoo’s room for the first time with a somewhat clear head.

Clean, organized, pillow covers that match his sheets. Spotless floor and bare walls, about as personal as a hospital room. Even his desk offers no information as to Do Kyungsoo's private life but he figures there must be clues somewhere.

He rummages through the drawers of the desk. He is pleased to find that they are less organized than the rest of Kyungsoo's room. In the top drawer, he finds essays gray and soft with age. Some are in English and dated back to before Kyungsoo’s military service. He also finds old assignment pages and syllabi.

In the second drawer, he discovers more recent school work as well as a few rough compositions, mostly in some minor key. He briefly glances over these, humming the tunes under his breath, and is surprised to find Kyungsoo’s musicality closely matches his own.

Almost too closely.

D.O suppresses a shiver and moves on to the last drawer. ‘Aha,’ he thinks as he digs up old birthday cards and a stack of glossy 4 x 6 inch photos. ‘Sentimental after all.’ A characteristic that nobody has ever accused D.O of being.

The top photo is a group of teenagers in their school uniforms, Kyungsoo among them. They seem to be in a forest and some of the boys make obscene gestures. The next few pictures are the same as the first with a few variation in poses so he doesn’t examine them too closely.

Beneath the high school photos are Kyungsoo’s army days. His hair is cropped short and he’s wearing camouflage fatigues, same as the other young men around him.

D.O recognizes Chanyeol. The military haircut emphasizes the size and angle of his ears but he manages to pull off the style better than most. He wears his signature wide smile in every frame, unfaltering and constant.

The final photo of the pile had clearly been crumpled up into a ball at one point. Fractured lines distort the image but D.O could still make-out Kyungsoo, staring straight into the camera, with his arm around the shoulder of a young woman. She’s pretty in the conventional sense (unnaturally white skin, heavily lined eyes, red-stained thin lips) but D.O wouldn’t be able to pick her out in a room of girls with similar coloring so he's relieved that they don't appear to have ended amiably.

The front door squeals loudly as it opens and D.O drops the photos back into the drawer. His heart rate spikes as he stands up and quietly shuffles toward the hallway.

“Kyungsoo,” a deep voice booms. “Kyungsoo, my love, dear roomie, where are you?”

D.O takes a deep breath.

‘ _You can do this. You can absolutely do this.’_

“I’m here,” he says, pretending to wander into the kitchen.

Chanyeol looks up from pawing through the plastic bags on the kitchen table. “There you are,” he says, beaming. “I was afraid you’d forgotten about movie night.” He nearly knocks over the six pack can of beers while removing his hand from the bag.

The stalker-ish, candid pictures that D.O had been given to study accurately portrayed Chanyeol's height and handsome features but the camera hadn't been able to capture his clumsy movements or lack of grace. His shoulders seem to be permanently stooped and he moves somewhat sluggishly like many men uncomfortable with their height.

Chanyeol notices the furrowed look on D.O’s face. He pouts, which D.O finds endearing and irritating at the same time. “Don’t tell me you forgot. You were going to show me Les Miserables because it has everything a movie should have: music, romance, prostitutes, fighting.” He brandishes an imaginary sword.

D.O busies himself with opening a beer while he scans his memory. Les Miserables. French novel over 100 years old by Victor Hugo. Apparently, also a movie. About the disenfranchised and revolution. No wonder Kyungsoo had thought Chanyeol would like it.

“I didn’t forget,” says D.O, “I’m just a little bit surprised that you remembered. You’re usually so busy.” He concentrates on keeping his hand steady while lifting the can to his lips.

“I know,” Chanyeol says and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for missing our last movie night.”

“It’s fine,” says D.O. “You can make it up to me by bringing all of this – ” he gestures to the six shopping bags full of snacks “- into the living room.”

Chanyeol nods eagerly, anxious to atone to his roommate for his previous abandonment, and scoops up the bags, three on each arm. He follows D.O into the living room. “So do you know all of the songs?” he asks, dropping the snacks on the floor.

D.O sits down on one end of the couch and blinks. “What?” he replies, outwardly calm, inwardly panicked.

“The songs,” Chanyeol repeats. “You said Les Miserables is a musical, right?”

D.O starts to give a little shrug which he transforms into a twitchy nod as he remembers, yes, the novel had been adapted into a long-running stage musical and won many awards. “But I don't know all the songs.” He doesn't know any of the songs.

“Well, I heard it's very long so let's get started,” says Chanyeol and picks up a bag of chips off the floor. “Where did you put the movie?”

“Hmm, I don't really remember.” D.O cranes his neck and looks around, hoping he will recognize it when he sees it.

“Oh, there is it,” says Chanyeol and moves toward the television. He picks up a plastic DVD case amongst a pile of more DVD cases. "Le-miz-er-ah-bleh," he pronounces. He looks to D.O. "Kyungsoo, am I saying that right?"

“Yes,” D.O replies, finally able to to answer a question with total honesty.

Chanyeol powers on the old, boxy television and slides the disc into the DVD player. Using the remote, he skips over the previews, straight to the main menu. He takes two steps toward the couch before suddenly turning. “The lights,” he reminds himself and flicks the switch, instantly dimming the room.

 _'Do you hear the people sing?'_  flows from the television. A single, beautiful tenor voice.

D.O feels the familiar sensation of drowsiness weigh down his shoulders and tug on his eyelids. It's not just the lack of sleep that clouds his brain but a classical conditioned response. Muted lighting and the blue-ish articial glow of a television or computer never fails to trigger fatigue.

Chanyeol cranks the blinds closed, plunging them into further darkness. He creates a path through the snacks to the couch. The leather cushions groan loudly beneath his weight as he settles next to D.O. He presses 'play.'

D.O makes it through the first song before succumbing to his torpor, curled into his corner of the couch.

His dreams are filled with songs and water.

He awakes to what he thinks is the main title menu but realizes that it's choral reprise of the same song. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he sees a crowd of men and women dressed in rags, sitting atop a makeshift wall, waving flags, singing their hearts out.

They raise their voices and then they finish the final note. The screen turns black and the credits begin to roll.

D.O stretches his neck left and right, feeling a bit sore from having slept through most of the movie upright. He turns to his roommate, about to ask what he thought of the movie, but sees the tear tracks down Chanyeol's face. He freezes, unsure of what to do: should he comfort the other young man or pretend to not notice?

Chanyeol sniffs loudly and wipes his eyes with his thumbs, still looking straight ahead. Bathed in the blue-ish light of the television, he looks older, worn, ragged. He exhales loudly and pushes back his hair with his hands.

The credits finish and the screen returns to the main menu.

D.O tries to think of what to say but he doesn't have to because Chanyeol speaks first.

“I forgot to mention that Sehun is coming over,” he says in his low voice. He turns to D.O and despite the smile on his face, his eyes don't have their usual spark of life. “He's upset because his girlfriend is getting married this weekend.”

Sehun. A year or two young than himself and Chanyeol. Weird kid and amateur photographer. Also tall and handsome, like everyone else in Kyungsoo's life, D.O notes somewhat sardonically.

“Right.” D.O nods and then adds timidly, “but not to him?”

Chanyeol laughs and reverts to his cheerful demeanor. He bends over and begans gathering the empy bags of snacks and cans of beer, using his long limbs to reach far. “No, she's getting married to her fiance. Sehun is an idiot.”

He looks up. “Do you have anything you'd be willing to die for?” he asks.

D.O raises an eyebrow, bewildered by the abrupt change in topic. “I...I don't know. Maybe. I can't think of anything off the top of my head.”

Chanyeol resumes his tidying. “I received another death threat today,” he says casually, as if he's telling his roommate about a dog he saw on the street. 

“What?” D.O exclaims after the words sink in. Genuine concern mixes with confusion. Tao had not mentioned this. “Who? Why?” 

“I found it taped to my chair, the one I always sit in, during my Asian Public Policy class,” he says and pulls out a folded note from his back pocket.

 

_Hey Park Chanyeol_

_Keep your ugly nose out of business that doesn't concern you or else I'll bury you where nobody can find your body._

 

D.O returns the note back to Chanyeol, his hand trembling appropriately. “What the hell does it mean? What have you gotten mixed up in?”

“Oh, so  _now_ curious about what I've been doing,” Chanyeol replies with light sarcasm. “Look, don't worry about it. This isn't the first threat I've gotten and it won't be the last. But the movie got me thinking...I can handle cowards hiding behind typed up notes but if someone were to hold a gun to my head and told me to back off, I can't say that I would be able to face death with any kind of honor, doing what I think is right. Then again, maybe I'd let them shoot me. It might be a relief.” He shrugs.

“Chanyeol,” D.O says carefully, “is everything okay?” This wasn't what he had expected. By all accounts, Park Chanyeol was annoyingly upbeat and optimistic to a fault.

Chanyeol nods. “Yeah,” he says with a small smile. “Sorry. Don't worry. I'm not depressed or anything like that. Iit's just that 'm a little on edge. I'm used to people threats via tweets or internet comments but this...it feels invasive. They even know where I sit.” He nervously licks his lips. “Kyungsoo, if you see anything suspicious, don't get all mother-hen and scold them, okay? Leave them alone or call the police. I don't want you to accidentally get hurt because of me.”

D.O, depsite his size, could easily snap a man's neck like a dry twig. But he doesn't point out this fact to Chanyeol since Kyungsoo seems like type of person who couldn't beat the average 12 year old at arm wrestling.

(Although he had seen the first bloom of a bruise on Tao's jaw the night they acquired Kyungsoo. D.O had felt a faint sense of pride, knowing that even in this universe, his counterpart would not surrender easily.)

Still, he opens his eyes owlishly wide and promises to not take matters into his own hands.

Chanyeol, satisfied with the response, stands up to take his mess back to the kitchen, smiling brightly and asking if he wants the last beer.

D.O declines. Listening to the sounds of Chanyeol stumbling around the kitchen, he wants to hate the overgrown goon. And theoretically, it should be easy. Chanyeol is loud, overtly affectionate, too earnest for someone as cynical as D.O. And yet, he finds himself laughing as Chanyeol expresses his regret over eating all of the snacks.

This assignment is going to be much harder than he initially thought.   


	10. Yifan

The smell of spicy rice cakes nearly convinces Yifan to stop for a bite, reminding him how much he's missed Korea, but he manages to keep walking. He needs to be more strategic about his route if he's going to lose the potential tail that's been following him for two blocks.

While some might call him paranoid, Yifan did not survive five years on the run from an inscrutable international organiztion as well as his own government by being complacent. The tinest lapse in vigilance could make all the difference between living freely for another day and, most likely, torture and execution at the young age of 27.

He abruptly turns and joins a massive throng of people making their way down to one of Seoul's many underground subway stations and shopping centers. He ducks his head in order to blend in with the crowd which thins once it reaches the bottom of the concrete steps. He turns left for the shops while the commuters continue toward the trains.

Small boutiques line both sides of the hall, each blasting their own soundtrack of pop music to entice consumers and differentiate themselves from the hundreds of other stores selling similar goods. Yifan picks a less populated stores with only one entrance so he can keep track of those coming and leaving. One of the shop workers, a young woman, asks if he needs any help.

“Just browsing,” he tells her. She takes a step back but keeps a close watch as he picks out a few jackets, draping them over the crook of his arm. One his way to the register, he grabs a black baseball hat and nestles it with the rest of his purchases.

He leans sideways against the counter, glancing over at the single entry and exit point.

“That will be 100,000 won,” the cashier informs him.

He reluctantly hands over two 50,000 won bills and makes a note to resupply on cash. Yifan hasn't had a credit card in years.

He walks out with the bag full of his new clothes and scans the shopping center.

A couple hold hands while cooing over matching sweater sets. Female high school students try on various cat-eared headbands. A group of foreign tourists try to decipher the sizes on some dresses.

Nobody suspicious.

Still, Yifan knows that tails aren't mustached men with the collars of their trenchcoat turned up, pretending to read the newspaper. For a successful surveillance operation, men and women of all different ages and appearances are needed to avoid detection.

He finds a bathroom and slips into one of the stalls. He waits for the other lone patron to finish his business and leave before pulling out the jackets he bought. He quickly sheds his own coat and slips on dark blue, polyester baseball jacket, making sure that it is pulled down to cover the gun tucked into the back of his waistband. Over that, he puts in a black raincoat which he purposely bought in a size too large. He puts the hat into his pockets, trashes his old coat (he really liked that coat) and exits the bathroom with his head down.

He doesn't feel that tingle, the raising of hairs on the back of neck, of being observed but he knows that the situation is still far too precarious to let his guard down.

Yifan resurfaces the way he went down, pushing against the stream of patrons. He takes a left turn at the top of the stairs and continues his evening.

He's just crossed a bridge into a less crowded part of the district when the sensation returns. It could have been nothing more than just a breeze or his nervous system resetting but he's been doing this long enough to know the difference and for the first time, he's excited.

He calmly walks over to a table selling girly accessories: earrings, rings, hairpins, and compact mirrors in bubblegum pink casing. He picks up one of the mirrors and unfolds it, pretending to be fascinated by the mechanism of the hinge. He sets the mirror in the palm of his hand and lifts the reflective surface so that it is level with his eyes. As surreptiously as possible, he adjusts the angle of reflection in order to examine his surroundings. Most people pass by so quickly that they aren't much more than blurs but he catches one clear glimpse of someone he knows. Someone he has been looking forward to seeing for half of a decade.

He sets down the mirror and keeps walking.

From what little he knows about the tail, it'll be difficult to shake him. Not without drastic measures.

Yifan abruptly changes course and goes down a small side street that leads towards a more residential area. The road is deserted, save for a few stray cats. He comes to a crossroad and pauses.

A pharmacy, a coffee shop, a low-rise apartment building, and convenience store sits on each of the corners.

After a moment of contemplation, he chooses the convenience store.

Besides the cashier – a high school girl by the looks of her skin and hairstyle – the only other customer is already paying for his things by the time Yifan goes inside. She bids the customer a bored farewell and gives Yifan an appraising look before turning back to her cell phone.

Yifan easily spots the cameras and moves so that they don't catch his face. He makes his way through the aisles and stops at the health and wellness section. The convenience store doesn't have wide selection of face masks, the kind that people wear in the delusional hope of warding off illnesses. He slides a pack off its hook and tears open the packaging.

The plastic crinkles loudly as it rips and from the front counter, the cashier calls, “excuse me, sir. What are you doing?”

He ignores her and fixes the elastic loops around his ear, covering his nose and mouth with the rectangle of black fabric.He walks toward the front of the store and pulls the gun from his waistband.

The cashier's eyes widen and she shrinks back against the cigarettes, half of a scream falling from her lips, but Yifan lifts the barrel of the gun high over her head and pulls the trigger, twice.

The lens of the CCTV camera explodes and the cashier shrieks, covering her head with her arms to protect herself from fragments of plastic and glass.

Seconds later, the door swings open and the very person who had been tailing him barrels through, eyes wild and nearly popping out of his head, gun in hand and pointed forward.

“ _Rookie mistake, Tao,_ ” Yifan says in Mandarin, the barrel of his own gun trained on the other man's chest. “ _Hasn't that organization of yours taught you anything?_ ”

“Yifan,” says Tao, breathless and almost reverant in his disbelief.

The bell above the door chimes and a customer enters, disturbing their confrontation. He appears to be a grown man but the mask covering his nose and mouth has the snout of a tiger, complete with whiskers, printed on the white fabric expanse. “Excuse me,” he pardons and marches through the space between them.

Yifan reaches out a long arm and grabs the back of the tiger's jacket.

“What are you doing?” the tiger protests and tries to pull away but he suddenly stills, seeing the weapon in both of their hands.

Yifan yanks him backwards and positions him between himself and Tao and wraps an arm around his throat to him him in place. He extends the arm with the gun and rests his elbow on the tiger's shoulder.

“ _I never took you for a coward, Yifan,_ ” says Tao, grip on his gun visibly tightening. “ _Using civilians as shields is pretty low._ ”

“ _Tao, you're just pissed because you're a terrible agent._ ”

The tiger begins to shake, the peril of his situation finally sinking in. Yifan's gun vibrates from the trembling.

“Hey, calm down,” he soothes in Korean. “He's not going to shoot you. Do you know why? Because he doesn't exist. Which isn't to say that he isn't real. Obviously he's real. But he's a shadow and shadows can't kill people or else they're not shadows anymore but something else entirely.”

“ _Shut up, Yifan,_ ” says Tao. He lifts his gun so that the tradjectory of the bullet lines up between Yifan's eyes. “ _I should blow your fucking head off._ ”

“ _And risk shooting this innocent bystander?_ ” Yifan raises an eyebrow. “ _Don't you want to know what I've been doing for these past five years?_ ”

“ _I know what you've been doing. Running, hiding like a rat._ ”

Yifan laughs. “ _Well, you're not completely wrong. When you don't know what you're up against, sometimes its best to keep a low profile. But I've learned a lot since then. I've been traveling: Shanghai, Beijing, Bangkok, Tokyo, places in India, Pakistan, Spain, Italy...and this little town outside of Gwangju. Quaint place._ ”

Tao expresses no sign of surprise or confusion. His face is perfectly impassive, inordinately schooled, and Yifan feels pleased, vindicated. He knows he's on the right track.

“Miss,” Yifan directs at the cashier. “Are the police on their way?”

It takes a moment for her to respond, “Y-yes.”

Tao has the chance to tie up a loose end that has been unraveling for five years (because Yifan knows that's what he is: an unresolved issue). But a shadow only becomes more visible when light shines upon it and Tao is trying to remain unseen.

Yifan watches in amusement as the struggle plays itself out on Tao's face. “ _Go ahead. Get out of here, Tao,_ ” he says. “ _I won't shoot you in the back. I still have so many things I'd like to ask you._ ”

Tao curses. He lowers his gun. “ _Showing yourself was a huge mistake. But I'm glad you're alive. I'm going to personally kill you._ ”

Yifan smiles behind his mask. “ _What an honor._ ”

Tao pulls his hood over his head and exits the convenience store.

Yifan waits a few moments before shoving the tiger forward, forcing him against the counter. He moves the arm from his throat and folds him over the fake granite surface. He presses the barrel of his gun to the tiger's head.

The cashier covers a cry with her hands and slides to the ground, pulling packs of cigarettes down in the process.

“I'd appreciate it if you two kept anything incriminating to yourselves,” says Yifan. “The less you think you know, the better. Otherwise, we will be seeing each other again and even though I'm sure you're both charming people, I don't want that and neither do you. Are we in agreement?”

The cashier nods fervently.

Yifan leans forward, pushing his weight against the tiger. “What about you?”

“Yes,” he says. “Yes.”

“Good.” Yifan straightens up. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry about all of this.”

He leaves before he can see their reaction. He returns the gun back to its original position in the waistband. He pulls off the raincoat and trashes it in a dumpster before disappearing.

 

*

 

Xiumin races to the police station, wiping away the sweat that drips into his eyes. He skids to a stop at the front desk and looks around, eyes moving too quickly for his brain to keep up.

“Can I help you?” the officer at the front desk asks.

“I'm...” Xiumin catches his breath. “I'm looking for my friend. He was a witness to a robbery. His name is Lu Han.”

“Oh, the convenience store one? He'll be out in a second.”

Xiumin thanks him and takes a seat in a hard plastic chair. His skin crawls with anxiety and he can't get rid of the knot in his chest. But when he sees Lu Han being escorted by a police officer, he immediately conceals all trace of his panic and assumes his role as a pillar.

It's one of his greatest strengths, as well as Minseok's: someone who can be counted on.

“We'll call you if we have any more questions,” the officer tells Lu Han before patting him on the arm and walking away.

Lu Han appears a bit lost but nods. He looks around and spots Xiumin immediately. “Minseok, thank god.”

Xiumin almost topples over when Lu Han grasps him in a tight hug.

“You're okay,” he says in an effort to convince himself as much as Lu Han. “It's over now. I'll take you home.” He untangles himself and leads him outside.

They walk side by side in silence.

“Minseok,” Lu Han says quietly a few blocks from the police station. “I...I didn't exactly tell the truth.”

Xiumin stops. “Tell the truth to who?” He faces Lu Han and frowns. “The police?”

Lu Han's eyes dart around nervously. He leans down and whispers, “it wasn't a robbery.”

“Then why did you say it was?”

“Because I didn't know what else to say. But it wasn't a robbery because they didn't steal anything. And the way they were talking...” Lu Han bites his lip. “It was strange, as if they spies or something. I don't think they would have talked like that if they knew I was also Chinese.”

“Spies? What would Chinese spies be doing in a convenience store?” Xiumin tries to smile. “Are you sure you aren't being paranoid?”

“I don't know.” Lu Han sounds as if he's about to cry. “Maybe. But I know their names. I don't want to but I do and it's all I can think about. Their fucking names. I feel like if I don't tell somebody, I'm going to go crazy.” He grabs Xiumin's hands and looks into his eyes. “Minseok, can you keep a secret?”

Xiumin nods.

 

A few moments later, he wishes he hadn't because he realizes that Lu Han has stumbled onto something completely out of his depth. Something that Xiumin isn't sure he can protect him from. But he can't unhear their names, the names that spin around Lu Han's empty, pretty head, that he could disclose in another moment of weakness to the wrong person.

 

“One was named Tao. The other was named Yifan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks for reading!
> 
> I appreciate any kudos or comments and I hope you continue to read,
> 
> Thank you.


	11. KRIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After three months, this is all I came up with. I think the next chapter (Lay) will be easier but who knowwws. Anyways, please enjoy and thanks!!!

If Kris didn't know any better, he'd have thought that Tao snatched the wrong person. The observation reports had described Kyungsoo as 'somewhat timid, especially around strangers, non-confrontational which isn't to be confused with easy-going.' But Kris can't seem to intimidate the young man sitting across from him. Every question or plea to eat his meal is met with either a snarl or complete disregard.

“If you're unsatisfied with the food, I can talk to the nutritionist,” says Kris.

Kyungsoo glares at him. “That's a fucking joke, right? You think it's the food I have a problem with?”

Kris sighs. At least he had been privileged to a verbal response this time.

It has been seven days since Kyungsoo arrived at the Institute, five of which have been under Kris's care. For the last two days, Kyungsoo refused all meals although he drinks the water provided to him and it looks as though this day would be the third of his hunger strike.

Kris pulls out a small zip-lock bag of purple grapes from his lab coat pocket and pulls apart the seal. He pops one into his mouth before holding out the bag in his palm. “Would you like one?”

“Did you really think you could win me over with fruit?” Kyungsoo asks with an impressive amount of contempt, considering how exhausted he looks.

Kris ignores the question. “If you don't stop starving yourself, I can't stop them from strapping you to a hospital bed and forcing you to eat. And believe me, I don't want that for you.”

“Gee, I had no idea you cared.” Kyungsoo scowls and shoots him a look of pure poison.

If Kris feels guilty, he doesn't allow himself to acknowledge such an emotion. Not while he's faced with the subject. Right now, his main objective is to convince Kyungsoo to eat or else the scheduled tests will be pushed back again. The Board had ruled the tests could not be run unless the subject is at full physical capacity.

And he needs to prove to the Board that his position as D.O's coworker would not affect his ability to be lead counselor on this case, as they inquired when his name was first suggested for the position.

Kris likes to think he's fair and treats all of the psychiatric recruits the same but even he admits that he dotes on D.O. Ever since Tao showed him that poster of them as a boy band, he feels a strange compulsion to protect the young men that had once stood by him. The ones he knows about, anyways.

Unfortunately, that protective urge seems to extend to Kyungsoo as well. It startles Kris how much the subject looks and acts like D.O. They both grow fuzzy, uneven patches of hair around the corner of the lips when they haven't shaved for a few days. They narrow their eyes in the same way, glowering at him with their chin tilted downward.

One of the guards picks up the uneaten tray of food and another collapses the folding table. Kris stands and holds out the bag of grapes. “I'll leave these here with you in case you change your mind.”

There it is: that all too familiar look of irritation. “What would your  _nutritionist_  say if she knew you were trying to feed me contraband?”

“Don't worry. I've bribed the guards. They won't tell a soul,” Kris replies.

Kyungsoo stares at the bag for a moment before turning his head. “Don't bother. I don't like grapes.”

Kris slides the zip-lock bag back into his lab coat pocket. “Of course you don't.”

D.O doesn't like grapes either.

*

_Kris glanced at the clock on the nearby wall. It was nearly one in the morning and he still had more than half his notes to study but luckily, he wasn't the only person stuck in the library. Most students in his year were also cramming for various exams and papers and lab reports._

_Everyone knew that the fourth year of Artemis was the most rigorous because it pruned the less gifted from the general student body. In a few months, they would also be resubmitted to a physical endurance test but Kris couldn't worry about that now._

_The alarm on his phone vibrated loudly and he disarmed it quickly, although not quickly enough to avoid glares from the other students. He gently nudged the figure sleeping at his feet with his toe. “Tao, wake up. Nap time is over.”_

_Tao groaned and sat up, nearly hitting his head against the bottom of the study tables. Even at fourteen, three years younger than everyone else in their grade, he's far from the shortest. “I need more,” he said crossly and rubbed his eyes._

_Kris resisted the urge to reach down and ruffle his hair. The last person who tried to treat Tao like a puppy ended up in the infirmary with a broken finger._

“ _Well, if you want to rest more, you can sleep in my bed,” said Kris. “Suho won't mind.”_

“ _Thanks but it's probably best if I just go to my own room.” Tao crawled out from under the table and began to gather his things._

“ _Are you sure?” Kris asked. He knew that Tao did not get along with his roommate. In his opinion, this seemed to be a common issue among Artemis students. He considered himself one of the lucky few who was not only on speaking terms with his roommate but actually friends._

“ _Yeah, he's probably asleep. As long as I don't wake him up, it should be fine.” Tao waved. “See you for breakfast in a few hours.”_

“ _Yeah, see you,” Kris echoed. He turned back to his textbook and attempted to make sense of his reading but without Tao, he found himself growing sleepy and with the ticking of the second hand in the background, he nearly nodded off, a hi-lighter clutched in his hand._

_Realizing he had spent all of his concentrative energy for the day, he decided to head back to his room._

_Kris ran the short distance from the library to the dormitory building. He never liked the campus this late at night. Once inside, he walked calmly towards his room although his heart thundered wildly._

_Even from the end of the hallway, he could see the light streaming beneath the door frame which mean his roommate was still awake and so he didn't have to worry about disturbing him._

“ _Hey Suho,” Kris greeted as he opened the door. “How's your studies going?” He tossed his backpack onto the bed and rolled his neck to release some of his exhaustion. He straightened his back and only then did he notice the security guard in addition to his roommate._

“ _Kris.” Suho swallowed nervously. “I didn't think you'd be back already.”_

_He was about to explain that he couldn't concentrate on chemistry when he spotted the suitcase on Suho's bed. And the empty closet and bare desk. “What's going on?”_

_The security guard answered, “Perhaps its best if you wait outside.”_

_Kris frowned. “But this is my room too.”_

“ _I'm done packing,” Suho told the security guard. “Could...could I just give my roommate something before we go?”_

_The security guard hesitated at first but eventually nodded._

_Panic welled in Kris's chest. “Oh god, Suho, have you been expelled?”_

“ _No, nothing like that.” He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes._

_Kris felt relieved that Suho hadn't been kicked out of school but that left only one other reason for packing up his things. “Did you request a new roommate?”_

_Suho shook his head. “Of course not. Kris, you-you're one of the few reasons that I've been able to endure my time here.” He ducked his head, seemingly bashful, and held out a piece of folded paper in his hand.“I haven't been expelled but I won't be returning to Artemis. Not for a while anyways. And I know I'm not in a position to be asking for favors but I'm hoping you might help me anyways.”_

_Kris didn't like the way that Suho avoided looking at him but he knew not to press him. Too many questions and Suho would clam up and turn colder than ice. “Sure. Of course.” He took the paper and held it tight._

“ _That's my brother's address. I was hoping you could look in on him from time to time. He remembers you fondly from Family Day.” Suho finally raised his head. He looked like he had been trying to hold back tears._

_His roommate loved younger his brother more than anyone in the world and he knew it couldn't be easy for his friend to ask someone else to look in on Kai. That convinced him more than the security guard that whatever reason Suho had to leave, it was crucial._

“ _Yes, I will definitely look out for him,” Kris promised, ignoring the feeling in his stomach like something was trying to claw its way out. “You just...don't worry about Kai. He's a good kid.”_

_Suho laughed, unexpected and short. “Yeah, he is.” He held out his hand. “Thanks. You don't know what that means to me.”_

_Kris shook Suho's hand. The formal gesture felt strange. “He'll be fine. I'll make sure of it.”_

_Suho pulled away. “Good-bye Kris.”_

“ _Yeah.” Kris watched him put the suitcase on the ground and lift the handle. “See you later.”_

*

Kris checks his watch. Kai's meeting with Amber should have ended twenty minutes ago but the door to the meeting room remains closed and he can hear voices inside. Curious and somewhat concerned, he slowly leans his ear against the metal door.

“If could you stay here, please. There's someone else who would like to speak with you,” Amber's muffled voice travels through the thick steel.

He jumps back just in time to appear like he hadn't been eavesdropping when she opens the door.

He looks at her face closely, searching for any hint of weariness or frustration since he knows how taxing these final interviews can be. But Amber is Amber and she hides her exhaustion so well that he almost misses the uneven, half-frown she makes before looking up at him.

It takes all of his professional willpower not to put his arms around her and tell her that she did the best she could, not everyone has what it takes to bear the burden of what they do.

Instead, he waits until the door closes and asks, “How did it go?”

Amber sighs. “Well, he didn't flat out refuse so there's that. And he asked a lot of questions but not the kind that leads one to believe that he'll want the position.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how likely is he to refuse?”

“Probably an eight. I don't think he's bothered by the scope of the research. It's the moral aspect that bothers him.”

Kris isn't surprised but had hoped that wouldn't be the case.

“Look, if he doesn't want the position, we shouldn't force him to take it,” Amber continues. “You know what happens to those who feel as though they've gotten in too deep and then want out.”

He knows all too well but he also believes that Kai could do very well in Sector 302-D, especially under the right mentor.

Plus, if Kris is being entirely honest, he has slightly selfish motivations for wanting Kai to work in the same department. With D.O gone, Tao away so often, and Amber's refusal to talk about their jobs after-hours, the work strain builds and builds without a release. He would like to be able to confide in Kai, especially after a day such as the one he's had with Kyungsoo's third straight day of fasting.

Kris quickly glances around the hall and leans down. “Let me talk to him,” he says quietly.

Amber's right eyebrow ticks upward. “What, you think you can convince him?”

“Yes,” he says more confidently than he feels. “Look, you know that he's the most qualified candidate and all that's left is for him to accept the transfer. Director Tony is a smooth talker but Kai doesn't know him so his bullshit detector is going to be on high alert. Let me soften him up before the Director interviews him.”

Amber doesn't respond right away. She flips through Kai's files and remarks, “He may be the most qualified professionally but his background, especially his biological parents, is troublesome.”

Kris doesn't know what she means but figures it doesn't matter. “He was a kid when they died. We can't hold that against him.”

Amber looks like she's about to tell him otherwise but instead, bites her lip. She checks the time on the sleek black watch on her wrist; the one she insisted on buying herself even when he had offered to get it for her birthday. “You have fifteen minutes before Director Tony gets here.”

He pats her on the arm in silent thanks and softly opens the door.

Kai is sitting at a table with his back is towards him. He doesn't turn until Kris steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. His eyes widen in surprise and then darken. “So this is what you do all day?” More an accusation than a question. “Run experiments on people without their knowledge or consent?”

Kris walks around to the other side of the table and sits. “I monitor the subjects for any – ”

“Don't call them that,” Kai interrupts “They're people.”

Kris placates him by nodding and wishes he could ask Amber if it's this difficult for all non-Artemis graduates to understand the necessity of Sector 302-D's work. “You're right, of course.”

“Then how can you justify what you do?” Kai begins to sound angry. “How-I mean-what gives you the right?”

Kris is quiet, waiting for Kai to calm down before answering, “The Ivory Flu.”

Kai inhales sharply. “What did you say?”

Kris has to tread carefully. Kai doesn't like to talk about his biological parents, especially not how they were early victims of the Ivory Flu epidemic that killed over 60,000 people before it was brought under control 12 years ago. “I know it's not a lot of comfort since it didn't help your family but the reason we were able to find a vaccine before it became a pandemic is because of Project Phoenix.”

“How?” Kai crosses his arms defiantly. “By infecting people with the Ivory Flu so you could experiment with vaccines?”

“This was twelve years ago so I was not personally involved.” Kris tries not to let his irritation show. “But no, they didn't. There was no need to develop a vaccine of our own because the Beta-3 Universe had already developed one. Over there, it is called H1N1 Influenza. It killed an upward of 100 million people.”

He pauses for a moment to let the information sink in.

“I'm not going to argue ethics with you but the fact remains that if we did not discover this vaccine when we did, a lot more people would have died. Experts had projected we would lose three to five percent of the world's population.” Kris places his folded hands on the table and leans forward. “You may question our methods and procedures. That's fine. But don't doubt our intentions.”

Kai stares at him. “I don't know who you are anymore,” he says slowly, quietly.

Kris hears the despair in his voice and it cuts through him. “Yes, you do,” he says. “I'm still me. The same guy who promised your brother that I would look after you.”

Kai falls silent. Minutes crawl by before he speaks again. “Is that where Suho is?” He asks almost as if he doesn't want to know the answer.“Is he in Beta-3 for Project Phoenix?”

“I'm sorry,” says Kris and he means it. “I can't tell you that.”

Kai nods quickly and sniffs, glancing down at his lap. When he lifts his gaze again, he looks more like a young boy than a grown man. “I don't know if I can do this.”

A soft knock on the door startles them both.

“You're well qualified for the job if that's what you're worried about.” Kris stands briskly. “Director Tony will be here very soon. All I ask is that you keep an open mind. This could be a great opportunity for you.”

The defiant Kai who had been so quick to condemn is gone. He looks troubled and a bit lost. He nods distractedly at Kris.

Amber opens the door. “He's on his way,” she tells them. “You better get going.”

Kris puts a reassuring hand on Kai's shoulder on his way out. “Whatever you choose, make sure it's the right choice.”


	12. LAY

**Story 12 – Lay**

Kai did text Victoria after that night, if only to apologize but with a bit of clever reeling and manipulation on her part, he agreed to come over to her apartment for dinner on some night. And while she did not explicitly instruct Lay to make himself scarce during that time, it had been heavily implied.

Of course, Lay doesn't mind giving them a bit of privacy. He has every intention of leaving before Kai arrives but he can't find his phone which has the address of the bar he's supposed to meet Leo.

The doorbell buzzes a little earlier than expected – no. Lay glances at the clock and realizes that he should have left fifteen minutes ago. He hears the door open and by the pitch of Victoria’s voice, it's definitely Kai.

He begins rummaging more urgently.

Short of flipping the mattress over, Lay searches the entire room. He's convinced that the goblins must have stolen his phone (the same goblins who hide his keys and headphones on a regular basis) because if they hadn't, he would have found it by now. He can only think of one solution which he knows Victoria will not like.

After a few deep breaths, Lay musters the nerve to infiltrate the rest of the apartment. He sees Kai and Victoria in the kitchen, surrounded by a sea of paper grocery bags. They're leaning over the stove, trying to figure out the panel which controls the oven. Neither Victoria nor Lay have ever used the oven in their apartment since they don't ever cook except for heating things in the microwave.

Lay clears his throat and they both turn. “Hello.”

“Oh, hi,” Kai says, straightening and taken an unconscious step away from Victoria. “I didn't realize you were here.”

Victoria shoots Lay a pointed look.  _Yeah, you were supposed to be gone by now. Idiot._

“Not that it matters,” Kai continues hastily. “Obviously, this is your apartment and you can do whatever you please. And it's not as if we were going to do anything that would make you uncomfortable...” Kai, realizing that he's rambling, begins searching through the grocery bags. “Um, I brought some beer. Somewhere.”

“I'm actually about to head out and meet a friend for some drinks.”

“Oh.”

Lay can't tell if Kai is actually disappointed or pretending in order to be polite. Either way, he smiles apologetically. “Thanks for the offer. I'll take you up on it some other time.”

“Who are you meeting? Mr. Sour-mouth?” Victoria asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Leo's actually a very affectionate person once you get to know him,” Lay defends his friend.

“Why is he called Sour-mouth?” Kai inquires curiously.

“Because he looks like he's eaten something foul and the after-taste has permanently stained his tongue” Victoria answers. “Give him my love, would you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lay remembers why he came out of his room in the first place. “Hey, Vee, I can't find my phone. Could you call it for me?”

  
 

Victoria looks wary. “Are you sure you didn't leave it at the studio?” she asks but grabs her pink phone off the counter anyways. Before she can call, it begins to ring in her hand.

“Oh crap. If it's Leo, tell him I've left already,” says Lay.

She stares at her phone for a second and turns to Kai. “I'm sorry but could you excuse me a moment? I need to answer this.”

“Yeah, of course,” he replies with an emphatic nod.

“Thanks. It will only be a minute.” Victoria answers as she walks away, “Hello?” She disappears into her room and softly closes the door behind her.

Lay doesn't like the way that Victoria's eyes had looked when she saw the caller. He has a feeling that he won't be meeting Leo for drinks tonight.

“If you want,” says Kai and fumbles his own phone out of his pocket, “I can call you.”

Lay almost doesn't hear him, mind preoccupied with possible reasons for the mysterious phone call. “What's that?” he replies, distracted. “Oh...yeah. Sure. Thanks.” He recites his number for Kai and waits for him to dial.

Kai lifts the phone to his ear. “It's ringing,” he says quietly.

Lay bites his lip and concentrates on listening despite the overwhelming, total silence.

He hears a familiar jingle, faint but audible. Lay whips his head around, trying to locate the source of the noise although to him, it sounds like it could be anywhere.

“I think it's over here.” Kai drifts toward the coffee table. He surveys the area for a few moments and then plunges a hand between the seat cushions of the love-seat. When he pulls it back out, he is holding Lay's still-ringing phone. “Is this it?”

“You're amazing,” Lay praises.

He sees checks his history: zero new texts (Leo is not one for punctuality himself anyways) and one missed call from a number he doesn't recognize. He realizes it must be Kai's number so he doesn't bother to call back. “Thanks for your help.” He grins and puts his phone in his jacket pocket where it belongs.

“Sure of course...uh, Lay.” Kai sounds nervous. His rapid blinking only further betrays his anxiety. “I, um, already apologized to Victoria about that night but I want to apologize to you as well. It must have been really startling to come home and find some stranger on your couch so I'm really sorry.”

“Oh. I appreciate it,” says Lay, a bit surprised but not unpleased. “I'm sorry also, if I came across too harsh. What Victoria does in her personal life is none of my business. I guess I was just shocked because, well, she doesn't really do one night stands.”

“I don't either,” Kai says earnestly. He blushes and looks down, red from his neck to the tip of his ears.

Normally, Lay would be amused but he can't help but feel a bit sorry for him. Once a man falls in love with Victoria, it's impossible for him to climb out of it. Kai seems like a nice guy and probably deserves better than what's coming.

Victoria’s door opens and she's off the phone.

“Everything alright?” Lay asks.

“That was the studio,” she says, voice even and steady. “One of the Tango assistants can't make it to this evening's class. They want you to fill in.”

“Okay,” Lay says slowly. “I suppose if they can't find anyone else, I can help. Which class is it? Beginner?” He glances at Kai to make sure that their guest hasn't caught on that there is no actual Tango lesson to be taught. Victoria, when sober, is an excellent liar. Lay, on the other hand, could stand to improve although he's gotten better.

But Kai doesn't seem to suspect a thing. He looks genuinely concerned, for the absent tango instructor or for Lay's social engagement, nobody can tell.

“No, it's the adult advanced class,” she says, breezing past them, lightly touching Kai on the shoulder as she did so. “They want you to come by a little bit before the class so they can run through the lesson. You'll have to reschedule your date with Leo.”

Lay doesn't feel as bad about it as he should. Leo is probably still at home, hanging out with his cat and secretly hoping their plans fall through because he's unsociable and lazy. “Yeah, I'll let him know.” He takes his keys off the hook by the door. “You two have fun.”

*

His destination is only a few miles from his apartment but he takes the better part of an hour to arrive. He takes alleys and side streets, doubles back, and rides the bus a few stops in the opposite direction for good measure.

Lay finds all the precautions a bit excessive but he can't show up to Andy's place only fifteen minutes after the call to Victoria. The man is paranoid and won't reveal anything if he believes that Lay might have been followed.

He finally arrives at a shabby apartment complex. Glass beer bottles litter the landscape and an abandoned tricycle rusts in the corner. He presses the bell quickly, anxious to get away from the battered scene.

The intercom cackles to life. “What do you want?”

“Hi, my name is Lay. I'd like to share some information with you regarding our adult Tango lessons,” he replies.

The door buzzes and Lay lets himself in. He climbs the damp, moldy stairwell to the second floor and stops in front of apartment 2D. He knocks and waits.

The door opens a crack and a sunken eye stares at him above a chain pulled taut by the frame. “You got here awfully quick. Are you sure you weren't followed.”

“Sure as I can be.”

Andy seems to consider his answer for a moment before shutting the door. He reopens it a few seconds later, chain dangling from where it's bolted into the wood. “Come on,” he ushers.

Lay steps into the dark apartment and covers a gag with a cough. The place smells like dust and old fruit. Sucking in a deep breath, he asks, “What have you got for me?”

Andy pushes aside a pile of paper and old newspaper clippings. “Something from the Sino regions. An accident at a chemical plant which isn't getting nearly as much as attention as it should. Meaning it hasn't been reported about at all.” He frowns. “Where did I put it?”

“Why do you think the media is ignoring this?” Lay asks, looking around and making sure not to touch anything.

“Rumor is that the plant has been cutting corners when it comes to safety regulations and local inspectors have been taking deals to look the other way...here it is!” Andy holds up an electronic chip. The thin, gold wiring glints in the apartment's scant lighting. “Pictures and testimonies. Still working on getting proof but hopefully, we'll get it.”

“Let us know when you do.” Lay takes the chip and carefully inserts it into his wallet, nestling it behind his identification card. “Thanks Andy. I'll see you soon.” He turns to leave.

“Wait,” Andy calls.

Lay stops, biting back an irritated sigh. He's been breathing through his mouth to avoid the apartment's unpleasant odor.

“I heard that Victoria made contact with Kai.” He sounds displeased.

“Yeah, she did,” Lay says carefully. He knows that Andy has been against the plan from the beginning: use Victoria to lure Kai to their side, turn him into an asset.

To call the precarious scheme a 'plan' is being generous. The idea had been mentioned once or twice before but Andy ferociously argued against turning Kai. But when Junjin saw the young man at his bar, he made the executive decision to go ahead with the plan.

Lay isn't exactly sure the nature of Andy and Kai's relationship but knows that Andy feels guilty about not getting to him and his brother before the government did.

“How is he?”

“He's...fine.” Lay nods. “He's a good guy, actually.”

“His parents were some of the best people I knew.” Andy sighs and lowers himself into a chair. “I should have been there for him and Suho.” He looks up at Lay. “Don't let Vee string him along if he's not going to be useful. I don't want to entangle him unnecessarily.”

Lay can't make any promises. “I'll talk to her about it.”

Andy waves him off. “Go on, you snake. I'll be in touch.”

*

He does end up drinking with Leo although in his friend's apartment rather than a bar. Leo has half a bottle of good scotch and between the two of them, they finish it. He's quite drunk and a bit sleepy when Victoria sends him a text, letting him know it's okay to come home.

Putting one foot in front of the other, he stumbles back to his apartment. He expects to see everything in disarray but to his surprise, the kitchen looks the cleanest since they've moved in. The dishes have been slotted into the drying rack and counters wiped clean.

Victoria is sitting on the couch, alone, nursing a glass of wine.

“Hey,” he says, tossing his keys on the counter. “How'd it go?”

“Sit,” she instructs, unsmiling.

He flops into the armchair and pushes his bangs away from his forehead. “What's wrong?” he asks, trying to mask his intoxication by putting on his serious face.

“It's this whole thing with Kai.” Despite the drink in her hand, she seems completely sober. “I don't think it's going to work. He's not interested in me.”

“What you mean?” He pushes himself out of the armchair and slides into the space next to Victoria. “That's crazy. How could he not be into you?”

“I'm not taking it personally. I just don't think I'm his type. A bit too...female.” Victoria gives Lay a pointed look.

One which takes a minute for him to understand the significance. “Oh.” He blinks. “Are you sure?”

“He wouldn't stop asking about you all night,” she replies, frustrated. “He wanted to know if it would be creepy to save your number after he called your phone to help you find it.”

“Maybe he's just worried because you have a devastatingly handsome roommate.” Lay leans forward and kisses her on the cheek. “You know how insecure and jealous us men can be.”

She scoffs. “Yeah and more trouble than you're worth if you ask me,” she says but plants her mouth against his in a lazy kiss, undercutting the effect of her words.

Lay puts his arms around her waist and helps her straddle his lap. He presses their foreheads together. “So.” He runs the pad of his thumb across her cheek. “What's the plan then? Find some evidence of his preference and blackmail?”

“Actually, I was thinking you could be the one to seduce him and bring him around to our side.” Victoria smirks and kisses him again, more insistently this time.

“Oh really? Are you sure you wouldn't get jealous?” he teases when they pull back for air.

“Nah. I think it'd be kind of hot.” She threads her fingers through his hair. “Would you like me to show you a few tips?”

Lay doesn't know if its the way he can hear the vibrations in her voice with every word she speaks or the way she's running her nails down the back of his neck but he wants nothing more than for her to show him exactly how she planned on seducing Kai. “I suppose...if you think it will help.”

She grins and leans forward but a loud beep startles them both before anything happens.

Lay looks past her and from the coffee table, Victoria's phone is blinking at them. Gripping Lay's shoulder with one hand, she reaches back and grabs the phone with the other.

“It's a message from Kai,” she says. She reads it in silence before bursting into laughter.

“What is it?” Lay asks.

She holds up her phone for him to see. Lay doesn't find the message nearly as hilarious as Victoria does.

**[Kai 10:48 PM]**

**Thanks for having me over. Next time you and Lay should come here and I'll host. See you guy soon?**

“Told you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, my computer might be dying so I'm posting this now. This chapter is finished technically although not edited.
> 
> Leave comments and kudos please~


	13. Shouldn't Love Be The Only Truth?

When Tao first tells D.O about his mission, he thinks the handler is joking.

“Excuse me, I'm supposed to go undercover as a what?” he asks, convinced he's misheard.

“Karaoke attendant,” Tao repeats. “It's a person who – ”

“I know what it is,” D.O retorts. “It's a euphemism for prostitute.” He doesn't bother to lower his voice since they are alone under the bridge and the traffic roaring above them adequately obscures their conversation.

“Don't glare at me like that. At least let me explain the assignment.” He holds out a picture which D.O reluctantly takes.

It's a photo of a man in his mid to late thirties, handsome and elegant looking in a business suit and tie.

“His name is Moon Junghyuk,” Tao explains. “His father owns one of the largest banks in the country and Junghyuk is poised to take over when his father steps down. He's a decent banker, fairly good at his job and would have done well even without his family connections. He's married with a daughter and another child on the way. From what I can tell, they're mostly happy but Junghyuk has a secret.”

D.O doesn't like the sound of Tao's voice - like he's holding back a sneer - and looks up. “What's the secret?”

“Everyone once in a while, our banker likes to unwind by cheating on his wife with young men.” Tao hands him a thick manila envelope. “That's where you come in.”

D.O feels a cold sweat start to form on the back of his neck. “I...no. Tao, I can't. I-I...” He stumbles over his words, trying to think up of an explanation that doesn't make him sound totally incompetent.

“What are you talking about? You absolutely can. You've received training for this kind of thing, haven't you?” Tao looks annoyed.

“Yeah but this is different.” D.O shakes his head. “I don't know how to seduce another man. Isn't there someone else you can bring in? What about Jessica? She's good at this kind of thing.”

“Nope. She has a vagina.”

“Sunny?”

“Please tell me you know what a vagina is.” He sighs. “Look, don't worry. You aren't actually going to sleep with him. Once you're all finished singing and drinking and having a good time, he'll take you up to his room – ”

D.O's stomach turns and he thinks he might throw up.

“– and you will suggest another drink to calm your nerves and slip this in.” Tao hands him a plastic vial with two different colored pills inside. “Give him the red one and he'll pass out in ten minutes. The white one is for you. It will keep you from getting too drunk. Trust me, it works. Our chemistry sector is the best in any universe.”

Despite the panic rolling through his gut, he unexpectedly thinks of the pretty chemist on the train.

Luna.

He never did see her again.

“But don't we already have a banker under our thumb?” D.O asks in a last attempt to avoid his mission.

“Yeah, but if we move too much money through him, it'll draw suspicion.” Tao gestures towards the envelope. “You only have a couple of hours to memorize your legend but we've kept it simple. We've worked with this madame before so she knows not to ask too many questions. You just need to make sure that Junghyuk likes you enough to get him alone. The bug for his cell phone is in there as well.” He checks his watch. “Do you have any questions?”

D.O hesitates a fraction of a second too long before shaking his head which doesn't go unnoticed.

“You'll be fine,” says Tao. “I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think you could. Just be confident. Give him one of your pretty smiles and he won't be able to resist you.”

D.O is embarrassed by how much Tao's simple compliment alleviates his anxiety. Even if he doesn't believe it. “You really thinks so?”

“Of course. You're cuter than a button. Sunny's got nothing on you. She's an old hag in comparison.” He tries to cover his smirk by coughing dramatically, making a show of hacking into his fist.

Tao is teasing him, he realizes. “Whatever,” D.O grumbles. He folds the envelope and stuffs it into his inner pocket of his coat.

“You're looking especially adorable today with your shirt buttoned all the way up to the collar like a class president.”

“That's enough.”

Tao grins. “Seriously, I want to pick you up and keep you in my pocket.”

“Please don't.”

*

D.O manages to dig up something suitable to wear from Kyungsoo's closet. Dark, skinny trousers and a surprisingly nice blazer which he puts on over a fitted, collared shirt.

He tries to do something about his hair which normally just hangs over his forehead like a curtain. Using some expired hair pomade he found in the back of the bathroom cabinet, he manages to sweep his fringe slightly up and to the side but can't tell if he looks better or not.

“Good enough,” he mutters with one last look before turning off the light. He goes back to his room where he replaces Kyungsoo's identification card with the one from his legend: Lee Sumin, 19 years old. Cell phone salesman by day, karaoke rent boy by night. He puts the pills and bug in his blazer pocket.

He makes it to the subway station without running into his roommate which is a relief. He doesn't feel like explaining his outfit or hair to Chanyeol.

Having just missed the tail end of the evening commute, the train isn't very full and he manages to grab a seat by one of the doors. Two girls enter the train at the next stop and sit across from him. They're lively and pretty; typical city girls. One of them glances at D.O and smiles.

He smiles back and is pleased to see her blush. Perhaps Tao hadn't been feeding him empty compliments after all.

*

The Rosemont Hotel – with its marble pillars, crystal chandeliers, and dark mahogany furniture – doesn't seem like the type of establishment that would house a shady karaoke operation but according to his mission notes, this is the correct place.

He nervously steps up to the front desk, fighting to the urge to fiddle with his clothes. “Excuse me.”

The concierge, a middle-aged man, glances at him. “Yes?” he replies, voice polite but his fingers haven't stopped tapping away at the keyboard in front of him.

“Could you please let Madame Kim know that Lee Sumin is here to see her.”

The typing stops. The concierge turns and stares at him with a hard glint in his eyes. “You,” he says slowly, “are here for Madame Kim?” He doesn't sound confused, just skeptical.

D.O bristles. What is the man trying to imply? “Yes. Can you please let her know I have arrived?”

The concierge gives him a curt nod before pressing a few buttons on the phone next to him without picking up the receiver. “She'll be here in a few minutes,” he says, the corner of his mouth tugged in a tight smile.

D.O thanks him and allows the next patron to step up to the desk though he doesn't wander far. He wipes his sweaty palms on the legs of his trousers and tries to act like he belongs in a fancy hotel.

“Sumin?”

He turns and finds himself faced with the presumed Madame Kim. Dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse, she looks more like a business woman than the tacky, colorful madame he had envisioned. Instead, she is beautiful in a refined way with a gentle smile.

“Yes.” He gives a quick bow. “Hello.”

“I appreciate you filling in on short notice. Please come with me,” she says and turns.

He follows her across the lobby and into the elevator. She presses the button for the lowest level, B4, and swivels on her heels to appraise him, tilting his head under the light with a soft touch.

“You've got a good look,” she says. “Nice skin. These are pretty too.” She swipes her thumb across his lips.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, uncertain how he feels about his appearance being reduced to component parts and judged.

The elevator stops and she removes her hand. The doors open to a small lobby, illuminated by dim purple lights, and a hallway lined with doors. There is a front desk similar to the one four floors above them. Behind it sits a girl with unnaturally blond hair who hums along with the music and off-key singing leaking from one of the rooms.

“Madame, party of three for Moon has arrived,” the girl at the front desk says when she notices them. She doesn't bother to be discreet about the way she scans him and the smirk on her face makes him want to run and hide.

“I need to introduce Sumin to the other boys he'll be working with. Send a complimentary bottle to their room while they wait. It shouldn't be long.” Madame Kim gestures towards a door marked 'Employees Only.' “Please, after you.”

He walks into what looks like a backstage area for a beauty pageant and takes a second to absorb the noisy chaos. Young women and some men apply make-up in front of brightly lit vanity mirrors while they chat with their colleagues. Others release strange noises from their throats and trill their lips – standard vocal warm ups.

Still, some choose to read or study, impressively unfazed by the pandemonium. A pair of girls play chess in one of the corners.

“The boys you'll be joining tonight tend to come as a package deal.” Madame Kim puts a hand on his shoulder and guides him across the room. “But don't worry. They're very sweet. If they like you, that is.”

“Great,” D.O sighs.

She stops him in front of a group of three young men who seem to be in the middle of a discussion about baseball. “Boys,” she says fondly. “This is Sumin. He'll be filling in for Jinki tonight.”

“Hello.” D.O smiles to cover his nervousness and holds a hand out to the young man standing closest to him. “I hope we can work well together tonight.”

They stare at him in silence, judgment obvious in their gaze.

D.O lowers his hand with an awkward hem.

“Oh my god,” the one furthest from him finally shrieks. He grabs something off the vanity desk behind him and pulls D.O forward. “You are adorable!”

D.O has to curb the impulse to struggle and fight back, especially once he realizes that it's simply some kind of make-up pencil pointed at his face.

“Kibum, no,” Madame Kim admonishes and plucks the pencil from his hand. “We don't want to cover his natural beauty. Clean and innocent is his appeal.”

“Yeah, if you're a pedophile,” one of the others mutter.

Madame Kim hears and shoots him a look. “Jonghyun, are we going to have a problem?”

Jonghyun smiles ,cloyingly sweet. “Of course not, Madame. We'll take good care of...”

“Sumin,” D.O reminds him. “Lee Sumin.”

“Right.” Jonghyun nods. “Sumin is in good hands.”

She doesn't seem to believe him. “Jonghyun, you keep your hands to yourself. Kibum, Taemin, do you best to help Sumin.” She squeezes D.O's shoulder before walking away.

Kibum pouts. He mutters something about how he was trying to help with the eyeliner while Taemin sits down in front of the mirror and smiles at D.O through the reflective surface. “What dermatologist do you go to?” he asks, picking up a tube of BB cream.

“Um, I don't,” D.O replies truthfully.

“You're lucky. I go through about eight of these a month.” He shakes the BB cream. “I thought that after puberty, I'd stop getting acne but it turns out not to be the case.” He pumps a few dollops onto the tips of his fingers and smears the cream across his cheeks.

D.O sees a tray of bottled water near the doorway through which he came with Madame Kim and quickly trots over to grab one. Peeking over his shoulder, he makes sure nobody is watching as he slips the white pill from its vial and quickly pops it in his mouth. He chases it with a long swig of water.

  
  


A hand falls hard on his shoulder and D.O nearly chokes. He turns, wiping his mouth, and is surprised to see Jonghyun.

“You okay?” he asks.

D.O nods. He wonders what Jonghyun wants but doesn't know how to ask without seeming rude.

“Look, sorry if I was kind of bitchy earlier,” he continues before D.O can say anything. “It's nothing personal. I'm just pissed because Jinki was supposed to work with us tonight but then a group of women booked a room at the last minute, which Madame shouldn't have allowed, and he got hauled off. So I'm not even mad at him and I'm definitely not mad at you.”

“Oh,” D.O replies and hopes he sounds forgiving. “That's alright.”

“Cool.” Jonghyun drops his hand from D.O's shoulder and lightly pats him on the butt. “Let's go. They're waiting for us.”

*

Moon Junghyuk and his two companions are halfway through their complimentary bottle of Johnny Walker by the time D.O and the others join them, lined up in front of the massive television screen like candidates for a group job interview.

“How have you boys been?” Junghyuk asks. His words and tone are civil but with his back settled into the cushioned seat and knees spread, he seems more like a thug than a respected banker. The jut of his throat bobs up and down as looks over each of them and he raises an eyebrow when he finally notices D.O. “Who is this?”

Somebody – probably Kibum – nudges him forward.

“My name is Lee Sumin,” D.O says with a small bow, hoping they can't hear the hammering in his chest.

“I haven't seen you around before. I'll have to ask Madame Kim where she's been hiding you.” He pats the spot on his left. “Sit. We till have half of a bottle to finish.”

D.O does as instructed and wedges between Junghyuk and his friend. Taemin and Kibum quickly dispense a shot glass to each person without one in front of them while Jonghyun, both hands holding the bottle, pours.

Before D.O can even register that he should probably help, everyone has a round of whiskey at their disposal. He marvels at the efficiency of their coordinated effort and feels a twinge of guilt for looking down on their profession.

“This bottle looks like it's almost finished,” Jonghyun says. “Shall I order another?”

“Sure,” Junghyuk nods, “But let's do this round first.” He raises his glass and everyone mimics his action. “Cheers.”

“Cheers!” the room echoes and throws back their shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I posted this on AFF and then forgot to post it on AO3. But here it is! 
> 
> If you have any thoughts about the fic, please leave comments. 
> 
> Thanks!


	14. For that, love would always have to be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally forgot to post this chapter. 
> 
> Warnings: unwanted sexual advancement.

**For That, Love Would Always Have To Be True**

 

D.O never thought he would resent anybody for doing their job too well but an hour into his evening with Moon Junghyuk and friends, he wishes that the white pill would wear off enough for him to feel, at the very least, tipsy. Unfortunately, Tao had been right about their chemistry department and he finds himself the only sober person in a room of drunk, depraved men.

Whatever initial interest Moon Junghyuk had shown for D.O seems to have disappeared. Kibum is practically sitting on his lap, continuously pouring shots for the banker, and shows no indication of leaving his side any time soon.

Jonghyun, Taemin, and the shorter of Junghyuk's friend, Minwoo, are playing bartender by making gross cocktails and daring each other to drink them. They look like friends having a good time rather than paid companions and D.O can't help but feel a little envious of their fun despite the bit of fried chicken skin he saw Jonghyun drop into his drink. To make matter worse, Junghyuk's taller friend hasn't stopped touching him all night.

While Kibum giggles at something Junghyuk said and Minwoo offers Taemin 50,000 won to drink what looks like vomit in a glass, the man wraps a hand around the back of D.O's neck and whispers into his ear, “what are you doing after this?”

The smell of alcohol on the man's tongue burns his eyes. “I'm not sure,” he says. “I have a lot of homework to do.”

The man chuckles. “What kind of homework? Maybe I could teach you a thing or two.”

He feels the man's dry lips drag slowly across his cheek, toward his mouth. He knows what's coming next and tries to prepare for it but when he feels the other's hot breath against his lips, he jerks back. “Excuse me,” he mutters and stands up.

He isn't sure if the other boys witnessed what almost happened but he can definitely feel their stares as he scrambles toward the door.

The empty hallway is an absolute haven compared to the room and D.O takes a breath that’s too deep. He feels dizzy and puts a hand on the wall to steady himself. He wonders if the pill is starting to wear off but he suspects it’s an effect of the man’s groping.

He knows he needs to go back into the room but he can’t bring himself to return to the noise and smoke and sense of entitlement by men with money. It fuels his disdain for the world he's infiltrated, the belief that he is different somehow. He’s here on a mission, after all. He just needs a little more time to regroup and achieve his objective.

D.O finds the bathroom and splashes some water on his face. Characters on T.V. always do that when trying to settle their nerves but it doesn’t seem to help at all since D.O can still feel his heart pounding like a jackhammer in addition to the water seeping into his shirt.

He checks his pocket to make sure the plant for the phone hasn’t gone missing. It’s there along with the red pill for Junghyuk. He has half a mind to give it to the man instead – what was his name – but it’s not a serious thought.

The door opens and from the mirror, D.O can see the man he most wanted to avoid stumble in behind him.

“There you are,” he says and lurches forward. “I've been looking for you.”

D.O turns around to face him. “I was just about to head back.”

“You don't want to go back now. Junghyuk is still singing and he's terrible.” The man steps closer, blocking his path and trapping him against the counter. “It's nice and quiet in here. We can talk.”

D.O stays silent, afraid that anything he does say will further encourage him.

“You know, I don't mind indulging Junghyuk every once in a while and getting boys instead of girls even though I've only ever taken your girl colleagues up to rooms before,” he continues. “I've just never been interested in any of the boys that Madame Kim sends us.” He snakes an arm around D.O's waist. “But you're so cute. You've provoked my curiosity.”

D.O pushes at his shoulder and but the man is bigger than him and stronger in the way that drunk men become. The edge of the counter digs into his lower back. “Get away from me,” he grunts in irritation.

The man tugs him forward and completely closes the space between their bodies. D.O’s spine goes stiff and he jerks his head back so that the man’s face isn’t so uncomfortably close. “I’m not interested in an unwilling partner,” the man says, “so if putting up a fight is your thing, you can drop the act now.”

For all his words, the man’s actions imply something different. He only tightens his hold around D.O as the agent pushes again.

"There’s no reason to be so coy. What do I have to do to convince you? Tell me and I’ll do it. Your wish is my – ” He yelps and loosens his grip.

D.O yanks himself away and falls against the side of the stalls. He had stomped on the man’s foot. Not one of his most graceful maneuvers but he’s free. “I have no intention of doing anything with you so you should just stop.” He tries to keep his voice even and polite but isn’t sure if he succeeds.

The man, having recovered, turns red at the rebuff but doesn’t say a word.

D.O figures he’s dismissed and starts to walk past him but the man catches him by the arm and slams him back against the stall.

“Do you have any idea how much one of you fuckers cost just to prance around and pour us drinks?” he hisses. His fingers are curled painfully tight. “You have no right to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.” He raises his other hand and swings his open palm at D.O’s face.

D.O’s entire head wrenches to the side from the impact and he might have fallen had the man not been holding him up. He’s never been slapped before and he’s stunned, more than anything.

“You’re fucking disgusting.” The man seems even more angered by his silence. He grabs the lapels of D.O’s jacket and shakes him. “You worthless piece of shit.”

D.O continues to stay quiet as he’s thrown to the floor, his cheek bouncing off a chipped corner of tile. The first kick to the stomach takes him by surprise and he groans.

“I should kill you right now, do your mother a favor.”

He’s ready for the next kick and it doesn’t knock the air out of him but it still hurts. He doesn’t retaliate even though he knows he could. But he can’t if he wants to get anywhere near Junghyuk’s phone.

_Well, at least he doesn’t want to fuck me anymore. Now he just wants to kick the shit out of me._

The man uses his foot to turn D.O on his back. “Whore.” He crouches and grabs a fistful of D.O’s hair. “That’s all your good for.”

In a flash of panic, D.O is afraid that he will change his mind about unwilling partners. He can take a beating but he refuses to be raped. He can and will fight back if it comes to that.

But the man is satisfied with the damage he’s done and lets him go. His shiny black shoes squeak loudly as he walks away and disappears through the door.

D.O lays motionless for another minute, breaths quick and shallow. His stomach and ribs still hurt and he’s aware of something wet sliding down his face, toward his ears. He reaches up to touch it and his fingers come away wet with blood.

He sits up and feels dizzy after laying on the cold floor for so long. But even after his brain reorients itself, the heavy sensation in his stomach doesn’t go away. He feels so terribly lonely and a sob rises in his chest.

He misses Kris. He misses his parents. And, strangely, he misses Chanyeol. Compared to the floor of a basement brothel, Kyungsoo's bed is like home.

The bathroom door opens so slowly that the hinges don't make a sound and D.O doesn't realize he's not alone until he hears someone speak.

“Sumin?”

The voice startles him and he looks up.

Junghyuk is in the doorway and seeing the state of his face, he quickly comes forward and drops to a knee. “What happened? Are you okay?” His hands are surprisingly gentle as they examine the wound on the apple of his right cheek.

“I...I'm fine,” D.O stutters, thanking the universe for this small miracle. He blinks and the tears that had gathered at his eyes finally fall.

“No, you're not.” His thumb wipes the tears from his left cheek, the one unscathed. “Did someone do this to you?”

D.O makes sure to glance away before looking down. “It's not that big of a deal,” he replies instead of answering.

“Who was it? Was it Choongjae?”

Oh, so that's the man's name. He finally remembers.

D.O chooses to stay quiet again, letting Junghyuk draw his own conclusions.

“That fucking bastard,” he swears and makes to stand up but D.O's hand shoots out and latches onto his forearm.

“Don't say anything,” he begs, creating a fresh batch of tears. “Please. I don't want any trouble.”

D.O can tell that Junghyuk is a kind man despite his philandering ways and isn't surprised when the banker simply nods.

“If you wait here, I can get some water from the front desk.

D.O doesn't have to fake the emptiness of his short laugh. “That's not really the kind of drink I need right now.” He lifts a hand toward his face but quickly lowers it before his fingers can make contact with his open scratch. “I-I'm sorry. I know you paid for my time but I don't think I can go back to that room. Could you please just tell the other boys that I'm not feeling well?”

“It's not your fault. He's the one who needs to leave. I'll – ”

“If you kick him out, the other boys will know that something happened and they'll tell Madame Kim. He's your guest. I don't want you to get in trouble either.”

Junghyuk really is a kind man. Or a fool. “Alright then. Come on. Let's get you cleaned up.”

 

*

 

Junghyuk's room is unexpectedly luxurious considering its single purpose. Most men would be content with just a bed but D.O is surprised by the French style linen sofa set, big-screen television, and breathtaking view of Seoul. Even in a hotel like the Rosemont, they must have more basic rooms.

“I'll get us some drinks.” Junghyuk says. He walks over to a dark, wood cabinet and opens the door with a little brass key.

D.O wanders over to the window and looks out.

From such a distance, the differences between this city and his own are practically unnoticeable. A similar view used to greet him when he had late night meetings at the Center of the Institute and he and Kris would walk extra slow to the elevators just to savor it.

Junghyuk appears beside him and hands him a glass of ice and dark liquor. “It's amazing, isn't it?”

“Yes,” D.O agrees quietly. “It really is.”

“I always request a room on the highest floor available,” Junghyuk says in a way that's not a boast. “Seeing the city from up here, it's so calming. All of my worries about work and people just...fade.”

D.O takes a sip of his drink even though he knows it won't affect him.

“Come on.” Junghyuk gestures toward the sofas. “We should take a look at your cheek.”

They sit side by side on the longer sofa, their drinks set on the coffee table. “It's not bleeding,” he observes. “That's a good sign but I think we should put some ointment on it anyways.” He stands up. “There's a first aid kit under the sink. I'll go get it.”

D.O works quickly. He removes the vial from his pocket and silently pops off the lid. Making sure that Junghyuk is occupied with his search, he tips the pill into Junghyuk's drink.

It dissolves immediately and by the time Junghyuk comes back, D.O has put the empty vial back into his pocket.

Junghyuk balances the open kit on his lap. “We'll need to disinfect it first,” he says, tearing open an antibacterial wipe. “This may sting a little so please don't hate me.”

D.O doesn't even twitch as Junghyuk carefully removes the dried blood. Next, he uses a cotton swab to dab some ointment on the cut.

“You're doing really well,” Junghyuk praises. He presses a tiny band-aid over the cut. “All done.”

“Thank you,” D.O murmurs. He picks up his drink and the banker does the same. “Do you think it will scar?”

He had asked it somewhat awkwardly which gives Junghyuk an opportunity to think of answer while taking a long gulp of his drink.

“I don't think so but even if it does, you'll still be beautiful.” An equally awkward answer and Junghyuk finishes his drink.

Now all D.O has to do is wait. “May I use your bathroom?” he asks.

Junhyuk nods and D.O excuses himself.

He may not be impaired but the liquid from everything he drank that night has built up in his system. He takes his time in the bathroom, washes his hands thoroughly and checks his reflection. His hair has fallen from his half-ass attempt at styling it which makes him look even younger. He checks his watch. Four minutes have passed.

When he steps back into the room, Junghyuk has moved from the couch to the bed. He's fully clothed but the way that he holds his hand out makes D.O doubt his previous judgement of him. Perhaps he had other, less honorable intentions than just tending to D.O's wounds.

_(Should the mobile phone be compromised, the target cannot trace its origins back to the mission. He must remember the night as another dalliance at the Hotel. Do not proceed with the objective until the red pill has taken effect.)_

Six minutes. He should be able to stall any serious attempts at sexual activity for that long.

 

*

 

It's been ages since D.O has been intimate with another person and he had forgotten how much can happen in six minutes. By the time the pill takes effect, his jacket is on the ground, shirt open, pants unbuttoned and low on his hips, lips swollen from Junghyuk's kisses and he can already feel a hickey starting to form on his neck.

D.O leans forward from where he's straddling Junghyuk's stomach and checks to see that he's still breathing. The banker had been amused by D.O initiative to change positions and be on top but the truth is that D.O had not wanted to be trapped beneath him when he finally passed out.

Once assured that Junghyuk isn't dead, he climbs off of him and begins his search for the phone. He glances around the room, buttoning up his shirt and pants. The phone had not been in Junghyuk's pants pocket which means its somewhere in the room.

He doesn't see any suitcases or bags which makes sense since Junghyuk is not from out of town. Still, he should have a coat or jacket of some kind. He opens the closet and as expected, a light coat is hanging from one of the hotel's hook. He finds the phone in the left pocket and sits down on the couch to work.

The plant is tiny, nearly invisible; a single thread of gold wire only a few millimeters long. Its set in a piece of matte tape that blends in perfectly once pressed into the back of the battery. D.O returns the phone to the coat and closes the closet door.

He takes the bottle of whiskey from the mini-bar and pours it down the sink until only a quarter of the bottle is left which he puts on the coffee table. Junghyuk's shirt is rumpled on the floor and his pants are already half-way down his legs. Moving carefully so not to jostle him awake, D.O strips him until he's only in his underwear. He takes a few condoms from the nightstand, tears them open, and immediately throws them in the garbage.

He's not worried about the fact that the condoms are unused. Junghyuk will wake up tomorrow with the worst hangover of his life and chances are he will not look too closely at his trash.

The main objective has been accomplished. Now he just needs to get out of the hotel without running into the other boys or Junghyuk's friends.

 

*

 

It's 4:27 in the morning by the time D.O gets back to Kyungsoo's apartment. He's expecting darkness and silence to greet him but when he opens the door, there is light streaming from the kitchen and the bubble of boiling water.

Chanyeol appears in the doorway. At first, he looks amused, probably not used to seeing his roommate coming home at such an unrespectable hour. But his eyes flicker to the band-aid on D.O's cheek and he immediately rushes over. “What happened? Are you okay?” he asks, voice overflowing with concern.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” D.O replies, turning away from Chanyeol's attempts to examine him more closely. “It's just a scratch. No big deal.”

“No big deal? But what if it leaves a scar?”

“Then I'll tell everybody that I got it while rescuing a baby from a burning building which is cooler than what actually happened.” D.O takes a cup from the drying rack and fills it with tap water.

Chanyeol frowns. He steps up behind him and slowly bends forward until his nose is practically buried in D.O's hair. He sniffs. “Are you wearing a new cologne?”

D.O nearly drops the cup. “Yeah, its a sample I picked up from COEX,” he says and gulps his water in an attempt to disrupt the conversation. “Now if you're done interrogating me, can I go to bed?”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“No.” Without turning around, he slides away from Chanyeol. “Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm working on the next chapter which is Chanyeol but I've been so busy lately and have so much shit going on that I don't know when it will be finished but I hope you'll wait for me~
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments and kudos.


End file.
